Second Chances
by Aeilyn Montgomery
Summary: You may already know how The Hobbit ends. But when the Necromancer's spell goes wrong and, instead of summoning a beast he summons a young Irish woman back from the dead, everything begins to change. Maybe she can save Thorin from his fate and change his life, but first, she must relearn how to live her own. ThorinxOC
1. Chapter 1

Hi! So, I just saw the Hobbit, and was absolutely in love with it. As a result, I got the idea for a fanfic. It picks up right at the end of the first movie as the dwarves are at the edge of Mirkwood. I hope that you all enjoy it, and I would love to know what you think. Any feedback at all that you can give me would be great. What's the point in writing if no one is enjoying it? Anyways, here we go... Enjoy!

N.B. "Naimh" is an Irish name. For those of you who have no idea how to pronounce Gaelic words (I know I don't), it is pronounced "knee-v." So, "knee" with a "v" sound at the end.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Hobbit, or of Peter Jackson's movie version.

Chapter 1:

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The last of the enchantment was completed, and the Necromancer chanted the final words of the spell. In front of him the ground began to shake, and the pillars of the old elven fortress began to tremble, shedding chips and blocks of stone that clattered to the ground like rain. The Necromancer smiled to himself as he raised his arms in preparation of the final part of the ritual, and tilted his head back with his eyes closed. He felt the power flow through him, down his arms and out his fingertips and reveled in his strength and in his _darkness_. He'd been hiding in the shadows for so long but now, now, at long last, he could begin his real work.

The ground stilled, and the dust settled; the Necromancer opened his eyes to - nothing. Staring in disbelief, he took a single step forward, and then another. There was nothing in the clearing in front of him; the inner chamber of his sanctuary was empty. Somehow his enchantment had failed, and he had nothing to show for his efforts. Now his power was drained; he would have to wait to begin the spell again. Feeling the rage welling up inside of him, he clenched his fists until he thought he would explode from all of the hatred in his black heart. He opened wide his mouth and roared, the terrible sounds of rage emitting from his dark, gaping mouth turned the shriveled vines around him to dust and caused the thorns to blacken. From near his fortress, even the huge spiders scuttled away in fear. The trees of Mirkwood shivered, stirring the foul air.

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Not so far away, Gandalf felt the disturbance in his chest, pausing for a moment from the intensity of the hatred he felt. Bilbo stopped beside him when he noticed the old wizard doubled over his staff.

"Gandalf?" The question was polite, but concerned. "Are you all right?"

The wizard in question straightened up slowly, as the 12 dwarves around him turned to see what was the matter. Looking down at the Halfling, he gave a small smile. "Of course Bilbo. I thought I heard something, but I believe it was just the wind." He deliberately ignored the icy gaze of the leader of their company, Thorin Oakenshield, though he could feel the blue eyes freezing him with their stare. "We must press on. It would be wise not to be caught unprepared here at night. There are foul things in these woods."

"We'll get inside the tree cover and then stop for the night." Thorin turned around, and continued to press on. "I don't want to camp out in the open."

The dwarves followed him, with Gandalf and Bilbo in the back, walking silently side by side. Bilbo was preoccupied with thoughts of the woods near the Shire, and Gandalf was preoccupied with the memory of his feeling of foreboding. Something was coming, although he was not sure what.

While the party had expected to make much better time, they had only just made it down the stairs from the stone plateau in the middle of the clearing where the eagles had left them. Thorin, although conscious and bearing his wounds with fortitude, was moving more slowly, and as a result their pace was drastically reduced. Morale, however, was still very high - the Lonely Mountain was in sight, and they had escaped the orc pack relatively unscathed.

It was after dark when camp had been set up and Bifur was starting a fire, when they heard the sound of running feet heading in their direction. Thorin was on his feet in a flash, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The other dwarves leapt (or in Bombur's case, rolled) to their feet, hands on various weapons. Bilbo was shaking as he had been before every battle they'd encountered, although he was more confident in his abilities and bravery than he had been before. Pulling out his short sword, he glanced at the blade. The sword remained silver, catching the light of the fire and reflecting it. Whoever their adversary was, it was neither orc nor goblin.

All relaxed when Radagast pulled up in front of the camp on his sled led by rabbits. He hopped off, and tottered towards Gandalf, muttering to himself all the while.

"Radagast, my friend, I did not expect to see you again so soon. What news?" Gandalf smiled, stepping forward to meet the odd brown wizard.

"Something terrible Gandalf, something awful, and strange, and unnatural." Radagast was rambling on, his words stumbling over one another as he tried to get them out as quickly as possible. "The Necromancer, he's been at it again, terrible effect on the wood, more dying, but now he's done the unthinkable again, what to do, I found it, he's-"

"Slow down, Radagast!" Gandalf reached out a steady hand and placed it on the smaller wizard's shoulder. "Now, calmly, tell me what it is that you came to say."

Radagast took a few deep breaths, attempting to slow down his train of thought and his speech. From across the camp, Thorin stood with his arms crossed as he warily watched the two men talking. The affairs of wizards were none of his concern; what was, was getting their party to the secret door by the required day. His thoughts drifted to Erebor and what their plan should be when he reached there, until he noticed something strange. There was a large bundle on Radagast's sled, and it was _moving_. His attention snapped back to the conversation long enough to hear the brown wizard say,

"-and then I found it Gandalf. I don't know where it came from or what I should do. I desperately need your advice."

"You brought it with you?" Gandalf raised one thick, gray eyebrow.

"Yes," Radagast whispered. "It's right here."

He walked over to his sled, reached down to the bundle, and jerked the edge of the fabric that was surrounding it. The bundle unrolled, and deposited something on the ground in front of all of them, that caused every member of the party to stare in shock. Not even Gandalf had expected what lay before him - a young woman.

Her hands were bound behind her back, most likely the work of Radagast, and her eyes were closed, but they opened suddenly, and soon became wide with panic. She began to struggle against her bonds, scraping her wrists together to try to loosen the knots.

"What is she?" whispered Oin.

"Is _that_ what the Necromancer summoned? Doesn't look very powerful t'me." Dwalin crossed his thick arms over his chest.

"Do you think she has special powers?" Ori's close-set eyes were huge.

Bilbo was staring at the woman, spellbound. The only members of the party not expressing disbelief or shock were Balin, Thorin, and Gandalf. The latter was studying her, as if she were some sort of strange animal that he had never encountered before, and the former two were simply measuring her up.

The woman in question, meanwhile, was beginning to scrape the skin off of her wrists from trying to escape. Her terrified glance ran over each of the others, finally settling on Thorin. Her wide green eyes met his cold blue ones. There was no compassion in them, just stoicism and calm. Regardless of her thoughts on the matter, Thorin's mind was clear. He was going to listen to what the wizards had to say but, if this young woman were some sort of creature raised from the dead to wreak havoc on Middle Earth, then she would have to be eliminated.

But Gandalf had other ideas. Stepping forward, he knelt down in front of the woman. Bending down to look into her eyes, he pushed back the brim of his hat so he could better see her. "Who are you?" The first question was gentle, but firm.

The woman didn't answer, just struggled harder against the ropes around her wrists, which had already cut welts into her skin, and scooted backwards from the wizard.

Trying again, Gandalf said softly, "We won't hurt you. We simply want to understand what you are."

The woman tilted her head down, so she didn't have to meet his eyes. Pausing for a few moments, she let the silence drag on before she answered. "I am... human. At least... I think I am."

"You think y'are? What's that supposed to mean?" Dwalin's hand tightened around his hammer.

The woman flinched, and shrank away even farther away from Gandalf. She spoke again, her voice barely audible. "I don't... understand why I'm here. I-I shouldn't be. What's going on? Why am I here?" Who are all of you?" She glanced up at Gandalf, her eyes searching his lined face for an answer.

"We were hoping you could tell us some of that." Gandalf's voice was still gentle; he spoke to her as he would a frightened child. "We just want to find out who you are, and how you came to be here."

She was trembling like a leaf before him. "My... my name? You want to know my name?" She frowned, and seemed to be concentrating. After a moment, the look of panic came back. "I can barely remember," she whispered. "I think... I think it was Naimh, once. But I don't understand why I'm _here_ I'm supposed to be-" she cut herself off, mid-sentence.

"Supposed to be what?" Gandalf prodded.

Naimh shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind. She was struggling with something, whether thoughts or memories, Gandalf couldn't tell. "I think I'm supposed to be... Dead."

Bilbo jumped when she said that. "So it's true. You _were_ raised by the Necromancer."

"Nec...romancer?" Naimh looked confused. "Dead-raiser? What does that have to do with me? Please, can you tell me, where am I?"

She kept repeating the same question over and over, looking up at Gandalf with pleading eyes. He took pity on her, sitting down next to her and beginning to explain who they were and where she was. Radagast stood nearby listening, but scurried back whenever Naimh as much as twitched a muscle. Bilbo also sat nearby, examining the newcomer.

The dwarves, however, were not as interested. They gathered in a circle, muttering amongst themselves.

"I don't like this, I don't like it at all." Oin was fidgeting nervously. "What 'f she's got magic powers and kills us while we sleep?"

"I've never heard of anything like this before." Balin shook his white head. "I don't know what it is we should do."

Fili and Kili were talking and joking amongst themselves, teasing one another about what would happen if and when they died, and the tricks they would play on those around them if they could come back.

Thorin silenced them all. "What to do with that one is none of our business. We have a journey of our own to complete, and she is not a part of it. Leave the magic to the wizards; we must look to taking back our home."

At hearing that, Gandalf straightened up and turned towards to dwarf prince. "What was that I heard, Thorin, son of Thrain? You would not give aid to a lost soul?"

"Lost soul? Lost soul?" Thorin's voice raised as he repeated what Gandalf had said. "You think that she is a lost soul? If what you are saying is true, she is nothing but an abomination, something that nature never intended. It is not possible to bring back the dead, and if it was, it would be a great and terrible crime. Either she is lying, or she should be destroyed."

Naimh's head snapped towards Thorin's voice. "What... what are you saying? You want to kill me? But... I've only just woken up." She lowered her head, though kept her eyes on Thorin. Something about the dwarf kept her spell-bound. "What have I done to offend you?"

Gandalf stepped forward and intervened, motioning Thorin aside. When the dwarf joined him, the wizard lowered his voice and began, "Now Thorin, that isn't necessary. Would you murder an innocent soul and leave her body to rot in the dirt?"

"Innocent? Why should I believe her to be innocent? If she has indeed been awakened from the dead by a necromancer, how do we know that she is not some foul creature, born to do us mischief? Perhaps she has been made to look innocent, but is harboring thoughts to kill us while we sleep?" The icy eyes met and challenged Gandalf's.

"I listened to her tale, and I do not believe that she is lying." Gandalf's leaned down towards Thorin. "She barely remembers her own name, and has no recollection of her life or past. I do not believe the Necromancer intended to summon her from the dead; Radagast found her on the outskirts of the wood, lying unconscious on the ground. He brought her to me seeking my counsel. I will not allow you to kill her while she is under my protection. I will go to the kingdom of the elves in Mirkwood, there I can seek advice about what to do with her."

Thorin snorted. "More elves? That is even more of a reason for me to wish her gone. Where she goes, elves will follow. I've had enough of their kind." He paused. "But I will not murder a woman, even if I do not believe her to be innocent. Keep her bound and under watch through the night." He turned and strode away from Gandalf; the conversation was over.

"Dwalin! Gloin!" The two dwarves turned to him. "Keep watch over the girl. Make sure she does nothing suspicious."

"Aye," both answered, and walked over to where Naimh was sitting; stationing themselves silently on either side of her. After a few words more to Gandalf, Radagast hopped on his sled, and he and his rabbits disappeared between the trees, deeper into the forest.

The fire crackled and sent sparks spiraling up into the sky as Bombur prepared dinner. The dwarves, not ones to be depressed or worried long, were soon joking and laughing amongst themselves as always. When the stew was prepared, bowls were passed around to all the members of the company, except for Gandalf, who had disappeared. As Bilbo finished his, he looked over at the woman again. In the flickering firelight, he finally had a chance to really examine her.

She was slim, with fair skin. He couldn't see her eyes, they were closed, and the light cast changing shadows on her face. She was wearing a white dress with short sleeves, that reached down to her knees, and seemed to be made of some sort of lace. It reminded him horribly of a shroud. Her feet were small and barefoot, dirty from dust and mud. She was attractive as far as humans went, but didn't hold a candle to the elves he had seen. The one remarkable thing about her was her hair. It appeared black at times, but when the light hit it, it reflected back a deep red color, the shade of rich wine. It was pulled back and twisted into an elegant knot at the back of her neck, so he had no idea how long it was. Strands of it were beginning to escape, and were falling down beside her cheeks and framing her face, where mud smeared her cheeks. She had been silent this entire time, not even asking for something to eat, though he expected she was hungry. He was just considering mentioning it to the others, when he saw Ori get up with a bowl and walk towards her.

"Ori?" That was Dori speaking. "What d'you think you're doin'?"

"Well she's got to eat to, doesn't she?" His higher voice was matter-of-fact. "And she hasn't done anything suspicious so far."

Kneeling down beside her, he pulled out a knife, and slashed the bonds around her wrists.

"Hang on now, just what d'you think you're doing, huh?" Dwalin growled, leaning forwards. "You going to let her free to kill us all?"

"Her feet are still bound," Ori replied. "She couldn't go nowhere, even if she wanted." Turning to Naimh and holding out the bowl he said, "Here. Eat this."

Naimh looked at him, and then silently reached forward to take the bowl. Her slim hands and fingers closed around it and the spoon, and Ori got his first look at her wrists. He drew in a hiss of breath when he saw them; they were raw and bleeding from the ropes from when she had been struggling to get free.

"Thank you," he heard her murmur quietly, as she raised the spoon to her lips and began silently eating.

"Here, let me help you with that." Ori got up, and hurried over to one of the packs, pulling out a small container with ointment in it. The other dwarves watched, suddenly silent as he hurried back to Naimh, and opened the box. Placing some of the strange-smelling stuff on his fingers, he reached out carefully to her, as one would to a stray dog. Her green eyes follow his every movement, and then she put the bowl down. Stretching out her hands, she let him slather it on and rub it into the wounds on her wrists, flinching slightly as it burned her raw flesh. When he was done, she picked the bowl back up and resumed eating.

"I'm Ori." The smallest dwarf sat down in front of her. The conversations behind him resumed slowly, but he knew that Dwalin and Gloin were watching him closely.

There was no response from the woman as she finished off her bowl of stew. She placed it on the ground in front of him, and bowed her head again.

Ori tried again. "I'm sorry about your wrists, we wasn't sure if you were a threat or not. But that salve should help."

At first there was silence, and Ori gave a sigh of disappointment as he moved to stand back up. But suddenly, a soft voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Thank you, Ori. My name is Naimh." He turned around and stared at her.

"That's a strange sounding name."

"Ori..." He heard the warning in Balin's voice.

"It means 'bright'." She sat up a little straighter, and actually looked at the youngest dwarf of the party, before looking surprised. "I don't know how I remembered that..." Her voice trailed off, and she retreated back into her thoughts. Ori looked at her curiously. He couldn't feel any hostility towards Naimh, she looked too lost. Instead, he merely felt pity.

"How about I introduce you to everyone?" Ori smiled at her, and pointed out the dwarfs, running through each of their names, and finished with Bilbo and Gandalf. She glanced at each of them in turn. A few, like Oin and Nori, avoided her gaze, but the majority stared straight back into her green eyes... until she looked at Thorin. He met her eyes for an instant, and then turned his head away. She couldn't help feeling a sense of admiration for how regal he looked in the firelight, under the trees. Something almost forgotten twinged in her chest.

Balin let Ori talk for a few more minutes, before he roughly suggested, "Better get some sleep. We break camp early tomorrow." Ori smiled at Naimh one last time, before placing his bedding beside his brothers and falling asleep with them.

Naimh looked around at the sleeping dwarves, hobbit, and wizard. Her mind was a jumble of confused thoughts and memories. She was having trouble remembering the simplest things about herself, whether she was right of left-handed, whether she liked or disliked the night, is she'd smelled wood smoke before... Her temples ached from straining to remember details; she felt as if she was trying to catch the smoke that was spiraling lazily up into the sky. Lying back on the ground, Naimh turned her eyes upward to the canopy of trees above. Since they were only just inside the forest, a few stars peeked between the black branches and leaves of the trees, twinkling at her softly. She shivered slightly, she was cold. The dress she was wearing was thin, and gave her barely any protection from the cool night air. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she curled up into a ball, and closed her eyes to try to sleep. Though really, she wasn't tired. She'd been sleeping for a long time before, a sleep that all must take and none awake from. Except her, of course.

"_Why?_" was the only thought on her mind, as she slowly drifted towards the soft, black chambers of slumber.

From across the fire, Thorin Oakenshield watched the sleeping figure of the woman across the fire. He saw her shiver, and also saw as Ori quietly slipped away from the fire, and laid his blanket over her. He lay back down, snuggled between Dori and Nori, and warmed by the fire. Thorin was displeased that the dwarf had taken such a liking to her, but Ori was young, and knew little of the world. He on the other hand, knew too much. He didn't want any distractions on this leg of their journey. Making it through Mirkwood unnoticed by the elves was going to be tricky enough, without dragging a creature in tow. He leaned back against a tree trunk and closed his eyes. It would be his watch soon, he needed to sleep.

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Well, there's the end of Chapter 1. I hope you enjoyed it. As always, please R&R. Thanks!

Aeilyn


	2. Chapter 2

Well, so far there's been a very positive response to chapter 1. I'm going to try to update this story regularly, so I figured I'd get chapter 2 out pretty soon.

Also, in my mind, Beorn speaks with a heavy Scottish brogue, hence the spellings. :D

Special thanks to **LuCkY-StAr69, VampWolf92, Anna Comnena,** **WarriorDragonElf54, **and **SamanthaJane13** for reviewing, and to everyone (19 already!) who has started following this tale.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's or of Jackson's.

Chapter 2:

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It was in the very early morning hours that Naimh sat bolt upright with no warning, breathing heavily, her eyes wide with fear. She tried to move again, but found herself stopped by the sword blade that was pressed to her throat. From the glittering blade to the bone handle, it was a beautiful weapon, but all she could think about was not letting it cut her throat. Very carefully turning her head, she saw the face of Thorin Oakenshield. He was just watching her, waiting for her next move. Naimh was silent for a moment, and then spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry, I must have startled you. I was having... bad dreams." She hesitated before finishing her sentence, some ghostly memory of them causing a shadow to pass over her face before she looked again at Thorin. "I'm not trying to escape. I have nowhere to go."

The dwarf prince was silent for another moment, the blade held steady against the soft skin of her throat. He finally lowered it, leaning back and sitting back down against the tree trunk. He didn't speak to her, he felt that he had nothing to say. Naimh turned her head to look at him. Thorin was sitting languidly, his powerful body relaxed. One leg was outstretched before him, and the other knee was up, his arm resting on it. Her eyes traced the rings on his fingers, his fur coat, his armor, and the braids in his hair. She was mesmerized by him.

His face was turned away from her, looking the other direction, and the very faint light of first dawn played softly over his strong features. He looked so regal, it almost made her heart ache. Naimh's dreams had been about her past, they had been memories previously forgotten and now brought to some semblance of light. The dream that had awoken her, however, was her death. She had been reliving it in her sleep, and now remembered that clearly. She lay back down, and tried to fall asleep for what little of the night there was left.

In the next few hours, the dwarves had eaten and broken camp. Dwalin had removed the ropes around her feet, but her hands were still tied in front of her. The company set off deeper into the woods, with Gandalf leading them. Conversations were carried on between the dwarves and Bilbo, Gandalf walked silently in front, closely followed by Thorin. After a few hours, Ori drifted back and began walking alongside Naimh. As he had the night before, he tried to strike up a conversation with her, with slightly more success.

Naimh was actually thankful for the distracting, it took her mind away from the pain of rocks and sticks under her bare feet.

"Your hair is quite pretty, did you do it yourself?" Ori was really reaching for topics of conversation.

Naimh looked surprised. "My hair? I hadn't even noticed..." Her voice grew faint. "What's it like?"

After Ori's clumsy attempt to explain which had eavesdropping Fili and Kili snorting with laughter, Naimh finally understood.

"You asked if I did it myself?" She looked over at Ori, who nodded. "No, I don't believe I did. It sounds too complicated for my hands. It must have been done when I was buried..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, and then she seemed to come back to her senses. "Along with this ridiculous excuse for clothing." Ori looked at the dress she was wearing, now stained by grass and dirt. While it fit well, it wasn't practical.

"When y'were buried, huh?" The gruff voice belonged to Dwalin. "So y'really are supposed to be dead? What'd you die from then, hmm?"

Naimh flinched visibly, and her voice was unsteady as she responded. "I'd-I'd rather not discuss it. Suffice to say I died young." That was the last bit of conversation that Ori could get out of her that morning, and she passed the rest of the day in silence.

When evening fell, Gandalf looked around them, and smiled. "Oh, good, we're almost there."

"Almost where?" There was suspicion in Thorin's voice.

"At the house of an old friend who will be happy to entertain us for a night," the wizard replied. "It would be best to stay indoors where we are safe."

Thorin didn't doubt the wisdom of his words, merely the judgment that led Gandalf to believe whom he could trust. But, he kept his silence and followed the wizard, keeping close watch on the woods surrounding them. Over the day the trees had begun to close in around them, becoming more like guards threatening them than the tall sentinels they had seemed earlier. All of the dwarves drew closer together as they followed a hidden way through the forest, their eyes darting here and there at every sound, and their fists closed tightly around weapon handles. Even Naimh had picked up on their anxiety, and was stumbling more than usual, distracted by trying to watch the woods around her instead of the path beneath her feet.

After about another 20 minutes, Gandalf stopped at the entrance to a clearing. As Thorin walked around him to see more clearly why he had paused, he froze in shock. Standing before the company was an enormous house, much larger than what would belong to a dwarf, hobbit, or man. The massive oaken door was the size of three dwarves abreast, and the height was about six dwarves high.

"Who in the name of Durin lives here?" Balin was staring in shock. "And what is he?"

Gandalf smiled. "This, master dwarf, is the home of Beorn. Although he is an ally to none in particular, he is a great enemy of orcs. He will be happy to give us shelter for the night."

Thorin looked up at Gandalf measuring, calculating. "Very well. Let us go see this friend of yours."

As Gandalf lifted his staff and rapped on the great door, Naimh took in the house, her eyes roaming over all of it. The huge door was set in the front of the house, with large windows on either side. She couldn't tell how far back the house extended, though she assumed it must have been rather large, judging by the scale of the rest of the home. The roof was thatched, the walls made of massive stones from the bones of the mountain and plastered together.

None of the party was prepared for the massive man who opened the door. His legs were so long, that Bilbo could walk between them without touching the man at all, and Gandalf barely reached to his chest.

His head was covered in a mane of thick black hair, and his face was almost completely covered by a wild and tangled beard.

"Beorn, my old friend, it is good to see you." Gandalf smiled, taking off his hat and bowing slightly to the great man. "I trust that you are well."

"Gandalf." Beorn's voice rumbled like thunder in the distance. Looking at the party behind him, he frowned, his dark eyes narrowing. "Why have ye come with this party of dwarves so late to my home?"

Thorin's hand strayed to the sword hilt at his side. If Beorn turned out to be dangerous he would need to be prepared.

Gandalf held up gnarled hands. "Peace, my old friend. We are being hunted by an orc pack, and we are seeking safe haven for the night. Could we trespass on your hospitality for a small while?"

"An orc pack?" The dark eyes shone suddenly with a fierce light. "Aye Gandalf, very weel. Ah am noo friend to orcs, and anyone who is an enemy to them is a friend o' mine. Please, come inside."

Beorn stepped aside and motioned them in with a hand the size of a dwarven shield. One by one, the dwarves shuffled slowly inside with Naimh and Dwalin coming last.

Beorn's eyes narrowed as he saw the prisoner. "What is this, Gandalf?" he rumbled. "Ye dare bring a slave woman into my house?"

"With all due respect, she is no slave." Thorin cut in before Gandalf could respond. "This woman is a prisoner of ours. We believe her to be a threat."

Beorn leaned down until his huge head was near Thorin's. "In my house, ye will abide by _my_ rules. Ah will noo have someone chained up in my home like an animal. Ye will free her if ye wish to stay here, ye ken?" Looking over at Naimh, disgust crossed his face. "Ye bring a woman in here, cut and bleeding through my door. Ye have treated her noo better than orcs treat their prey, dragging her barefoot and tied up through the woods."

Ori and Bilbo hung their heads in shame at Beorn's words, but Thorin looked unconvinced. "And if she turns out to be a danger to all of us?"

Beorn straightened up. "I promise ye that nothing goes aboot in my neck of the woods that escapes my interested. And noo one escapes me if ah wish them to be caught." He turned, and walked towards what they all assumed to be the kitchen. "Ah was just making dinner, let me finish and then ah'll be off."

"Off?" That was Bilbo. "Off where?"

"To hunt some orc." Beorn gave a fierce grin, and strode into the other room, the floor shaking ever so slightly as he walked.

Thorin looked at Naimh, and then nodded at Dwalin. The dwarf with the tattooed head walked forward, and slashed the bonds around her wrists with a knife. They fell to the floor, and she stepped back away from them, rubbing feeling back into her hands. She glanced up at Dwalin, and then lowered her head again. "Thank you." Dwalin merely grunted in response.

The dwarves began to explore the room they were in; everything was the same as in an average living room, although much bigger. The fireplace was huge, taking up most of the wall, and filled with a roaring fire. A comfortable-looking armchair carved out of wood and padded with cushions was set in front of it; the only way for a dwarf to sit in it would be by climbing into it with a ladder.

Around the room, solid oaken shelves were fixed into the walls. On them were numerous carvings from wood, some of deer and eagles, but the majority of the carvings were of bears - big bears, little bears, bears fighting, and bears sleeping. The work was exquisite and the details so fine that it seemed as if the creatures were actually supposed to be alive, and had just been frozen in wood.

Naimh was staring around the room in awe, and didn't notice it when Ori spoke up from right next to her. "You like wood-carving?"

Naimh jumped from shock, and the drew in a sharp breath at the pain in her feet. She'd been trying to ignore it all day, but now it was too much. The blisters and cuts burned, and she sat down on the floor, covered by a large rug. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she winced as the nerves in her feet protested.

Bilbo came over and sat next to her. "Would you let me help you with those?" He had produced a clean cloth from somewhere, and looked at her expectantly.

Naimh hesitated for a moment before answering. "That would be... very kind, thank you." Bilbo nodded, and took more of the ointment from Ori. He treated and bound her feet as the dwarves stationed themselves various places around the room, talking and musing about their host. Gandalf had gone into the kitchen to talk with Beorn, and Thorin was standing in front of the fire, staring into the flames.

"Thank you," Naimh said to Bilbo and Ori, "for being so good to me."

"You really shouldn't be thanking us." Bilbo looked at her uncomfortably. "We have not treated you kindly up until now. In fact, if it wasn't for Beorn, I doubt you would be free at all." He glanced over at the broad back of Thorin which was immobile and silhouetted by the flames.

Naimh looked distant for a moment, and then responded. "I think that you have had every reason to treat me suspiciously." At the looks of confusion on their faces, she gave a half-smile. "It doesn't make sense but I feel very... rusty at living. I don't know how long it's been..." Her voice trailed off, and she seemed to disappear into her own thoughts again. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she shrugged rather sheepishly. "Like I said, I'm sorry. I feel like I've been walking around in some sort of fog for the last day and a half... Everything seems surreal, and it's like I've forgotten how to be alive and interact with others and be... normal, I suppose." Naimh looked at them helplessly.

It was not in Bilbo's nature, nor in Ori's to be unforgiving or judgmental. Bilbo smiled at her. "Then we'll just have to teach you how again, won't we?"

The moment was interrupted by Gandalf's reentry to the room, inviting them to dinner. Beorn had disregarded the table entirely, which would have been much too large for any of the dwarves or even Gandalf to use. Instead, he handed them the smallest bowls and spoons he had (for he had had average-sized guests in the past) and served them directly from the pot. The food was some sort of meat (probably venison) mixed with potatoes, carrots, wild onions and mushrooms, and cooked in gravy with wild herbs. It was delicious, and everyone dug in eagerly.

After they all had been served, Beorn walked to the door, and took a large coat that was hanging there on a peg. As he pulled it on, his voice carried to Thorin's company. "Ah'll be back in a wee while. Enjoy ye'selves until then." Opening the door, he disappeared into the dark night.

The dwarves, Bilbo, Gandalf, and Naimh all finished their dinners, and left the dishes on the table, with the help of Gandalf and some deft throwing skills. Now everyone was gathered together around the hearth, almost all of them smoking pipes. Oin and Bilbo were sitting by Naimh, now joined by Fili and Kili, and all of them were talking to her, telling stories, and making jokes. She smiled faintly at their antics, responding when asked a direct question, and trying hard to pay attention. Occasionally she still would be lost inside her thoughts, but she was making a concerted effort to communicate. It was about an hour later that they began hearing noises.

At first there were just heavy footsteps, as if some beast was walking towards the cabin. Bilbo's sharp ears were the first to hear them and he stood up, talking a few hesitant steps toward the door.

"What is it, halfling?" Dwalin's voice was a growl.

"I thought I heard something..." Bilbo frowned in concentration, as everyone fell silent. In the stillness, they could hear the sounds of claws dragging against the ground, and the snuffling of a creature. Thorin moved silently in front of the closed door, drawing his sword. Although he could not reach the handle, he would be prepared for whatever would burst through it.

As the sounds drew closer, the dwarves grouped together behind Thorin, all of them waiting with bated breath. Kili pulled Naimh behind him, drawing his bow, his arrow pointed at the doorway. As the handle jiggled and then turned slowly, the tension in the room rose to an almost unbearable level. A large hand came around the door, followed by the rest of a body - Beorn.

Everyone relaxed, and even Thorin dropped his arm, his sword tip thudding into the floor with a look of relief on his face. "I trust the hunting went well?"

Beorn shrugged off the coat and placed it on the peg in the wall. He grunted a response. "Noo a sight of those orc hunting ye. Aye, they were in the woods for a while, but Ah believe they disappeared when they heard me coming. Ah did take care o' some spiders though, filthy creatures." He stumped over to his chair and sat down, kicking off his boots.

"Excuse me, sir Beorn, but what was that we heard outside?" Bilbo asked timidly, slightly afraid to directly address the large man.

Beorn looked at him out of the corner of his eye, his face hidden by his massive beard. "There are many things in these woods, laddie, many of them dangerous. But some beasts only attack when provoked. Don't ye fear any noises ye hear outside the windows, nothing will harm any of ye under my roof." Pulling out a massive pipe, he pack it with tobacco from a box he took out of a pocket and lit it, giving it a few puffs. "Dinner was good, I trust?"

"Very good, thank you." Gandalf bowed slightly. "We are in debt to your hospitality."

"Aye, and one good turn deserves another." Beorn turned the chair until it was facing all of the dwarves, Naimh, and Bilbo. "Weel now, there's noo better after guid food and a hunt than music, ye ken? So which of ye will entertain us with a song?"

The dwarves looked around at one another until Bofur pulled out his reed pipe and began to play a simple tune. It didn't take long before Kili, Fili, Dori, Nori, Ori, and Gloin began to sing. By the end of the song, the other dwarves had begun to stomp their feet and clap their hands in tune with the music. Beorn smiled when they were finished, and gave a hearty laugh. The dwarves performed a few more songs, until even Naimh was clapping (albeit softly) along with them. After a while, Beorn smiled. "Weel done! Now who's next?" Looking around, his eyes lighted on Naimh. "How aboot ye, lassie? Ye look as if ye have a pretty voice in ye."

Naimh looked surprised. "Me? Sing? I haven't sung in, well..." She paused. "I'm not quite sure how long. I may have forgotten how."

"Music is a thing ye rarely forget. Why d'ye not give it a try, eh? Let's see if the wee sparrow with clipped wings turns oot t'be a nightingale."

Naimh's mind was spinning trying to think of something, anything she could sing, a children's song, a ballad, a waltz... She was almost about to panic, when a melody and words rose unbidden to her mind and, before anxiety overtook her, she began to sing. She hummed the melody softly at first, and then launched into the first verse. Every person in the room was frozen at the sound of her voice. The sweet, clear notes filled the house, reaching to the rafters and dropping softly on the listeners like rain. Every man, even Thorin Oakenshield was spell-bound, trapped in the melody that Naimh wove.

_A farmer there lived in the north country_

_(A hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_And he had daughters one, two, three_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_These daughters they walked by the river's brim_

_(A hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_The eldest pushed the youngest in _

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_Oh sister, oh sister, pray lend me your hand_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_And I will give you house and land_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_I'll give you neither hand nor glove_

_(Hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_Unless you give me your own true love_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_Sometimes she sank sometimes she swam_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_Until she came to a miller's dam_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_The miller's daughter all dressed in red _

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_She went for some water to make her bread_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_Oh father, oh daddy, here swims a swan_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_It's very like a gentlewoman_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_They placed her on the bank to dry_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_There came a harper passing by_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_He made harp pins of her fingers fair_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_He made harp strings of her golden hair_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_He made a harp of her breast bone_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_And straight it began to play alone_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_He brought it to her father's hall_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)  
And there was the court assembled all_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_He laid the harp upon a stone_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_And straight it began to play alone_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_There does sit my father the King_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_And yonder sits my mother the Queen_

_(The swan swims so bonny oh)_

_And there does sit my brother Hugh_

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)_

_And by him William sweet and true_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

_And there does sit my false sister Anne _

_(With a hey ho and a bonny oh)  
Who drowned me for the sake of a man_

_(The swans swim so bonny oh)_

As the last crystal notes faded away into silence, all were frozen in place. Even Naimh was still. At last Beorn broke the stillness by wiping a large hand across his eyes. "Ye dinnae sing like a nightingale lassie, ye put them t'shame."

Ori was staring at her. "Were did you learn to sing like that?"

Naimh's eyes were faraway. "My mother taught me. She was a musician, she had the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard."

"I'd say there's someone in the world to give her competition." Gandalf smiled at her, his warm blue eyes crinkling at the corners when her eyes met his. And, for the first time, Naimh gave a genuine smile back. For a moment her eyes seemed clear, as if a veil had been lifted away from them. There was life again.

Thorin Oakenshield didn't know how to react. Her words had pulled so something in his chest, the song had tugged on his heart. He had never heard a voice so beautiful. In fact, it had been such a long time since he recognized anything of beauty in the world. Erebor and the Arkenstone were beauty to him - everything else was merely superfluous. But Naimh's voice had cracked some wall in his heart, now he looked at her with a mix of confusion and wonder. Although he was suspicious, his instinct was telling him that nothing with a voice that pure could possibly be evil.

Naimh caught him looking at her, and her heart jumped in her chest. She met his eyes with hers, and he saw that they were actually a deep green, emerald some would say, and when she smiled they glowed. The firelight illuminated her face, even through the dirt and sweat. Her hair was the color of the darkest ruby or richest wine, falling out and around her face, catching the light of the flames and putting the dark reds of the fire to shame. Just for a moment, she looked hauntingly lovely... until he remembered who he was. He was Thorin Oakenshield, Prince of Erebor, one day King of the Mountain. He wiped the wonder off his face and turned away.

"We should all get some rest, we must leave early tomorrow." Getting up, he walked away from the others.

As quickly as the light had appeared in Naimh's eyes, it was snuffed out.

XXXXX

Whew, there's chapter 2. In case anyone is curious, that song is The Bonny Swans by Loreena McKennitt, and is a stunningly lovely Irish folk song, all about transformation into things. I thought it would be appropriate for this chapter.

As always, please R&R. I hope you're enjoying it!

Aeilyn


	3. Chapter 3

Hiya, everybody! So far the response to this story has been great. 39 followers and counting! (Holy shit.) That's super exciting for me, I'm so glad people want to ready the stuff that comes out of my head. I'm looking forward to how you all like Chapter 3.

Special thanks to: **Bottled green, romanii, wolviegurl, VampWolf92, **and** harrylee94** for reviewing!

Disclaimer: The same. I own nothing Tolkien or Jackson.

Chapter 3:

Naimh lay curled up in a pile of blankets in Beorn's spare room; he had refused to let her sleep in the same space as a bunch of filthy, ill-mannered dwarves or an odd wizard. Bilbo was asleep in a comparably comfortable pile of blankets a few feet away from her; he had requested to be able to sleep somewhere without snoring for a night. She was lying there, staring at the ceiling, and listening to the sounds of the insects outside. The sounds of them had been affecting her dreams - she had been dreaming of summers when she was a child. Her father had taken her and her brother camping when they were young, and she had lain awake at night then, listening to the crickets singing through the nylon walls of the tent. In those days she had been snug in her sleeping bag, the only thing on her mind what would be for breakfast the next morning, and the hope that they would go swimming.

Naimh was confused. She was having trouble reconciling her memories and the world she knew now. Her memories were fuzzy, muted, but they had the golden tinge of the past, like pictures that have begun to turn hazy with age. In her memories they had nylon tents, cars, grills, and electric lanterns, there were iPods and computers, movies and cell phones. Those things seemed so normal, so _modern_. She could accept them like she could accept that the sun would rise every morning, that the sun would go down every night, and that the rain would come again.

But what she understood now? There were no such things as electricity or trains, or music that existed burned into a disk. This world was simpler and cleaner, and so much more frightening. There were no guns, but here there were monsters. There were giants like Beorn, there were tiny men like Hobbits, and there were kings... kings like Thorin.

As her thoughts turned to the dwarf, she became even more confused. She had lived in two separate worlds - worlds that seemed like they were irreconcilable - and here she was like a child, mooning over a man. Not even a man - a dwarf, a half-man, and royalty - a king under a mountain. He radiated such strength and calm, such power, that she couldn't help but be drawn to him. She was frightened, and he was a rock of stability.

Naimh groaned softly, balling her hands into her fists. She beat them against her forehead, trying to knock some sense into herself, trying to clear the cobwebs out of her head. She was so, so lost.

XXXXX

The next morning they all convened in front of Beorn's fireplace again for breakfast. Bofur looked up with a smile when Bilbo entered at the smell of cooking food, he and the hobbit had grown to be fast friends.

"Ahey, Bilbo!" Fili shouted, raising a mug.

"We thought you were going to sleep the whole day!" Kili shouted with his brother. "We had to fight off Bombur for the last of biscuits; even now they all have his teeth marks in them!" The brother dwarfs fell about laughing.

It's was Dori's pleasant voice that startled everyone. "Why good morning, my lady. You look well this morning."

At his voice, the other dwarves turned to look at Naimh who was following Bilbo out of the spare room. She had had the chance to bathe that morning, and her still-damp hair was braided down her back, reaching midway down. The dirt and grime had been washed off her face and arms, her wrists had been wrapped in clean bandages. Somewhere she had found clothes - brown trousers which were tucked into a pair of dark brown boots, and a deep blue long-sleeved shirt with a bodice laced overtop. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and it was open at the collar. When she leaned forward to sit down, the oversized shirt shifted, revealing more of her chest. As she moved, Kili's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something strange there, a dark blemish on her white chest. As soon as Naimh noticed him looking, she jerked back quickly and pulled her shirt closer, shielding her skin from view.

"Good morning," she said with a hint of a smile. "I trust you all slept well?"

"And snored like a pack of hogs," Gandalf grumbled in the background. He ducked quickly to avoid the piece of biscuit that Kili threw at him.

"You were snoring along with us old man, in fact, you were the loudest." The dark-haired dwarf laughed at the look on the wizard's face.

"And you, miss?" That was Ori. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough," she murmured, and accepted a bowl of oatmeal with honey from Beorn. Looking up at him, she gave a faint smile in thanks.

Breakfast passed quickly for Thorin's company, and what had been pleasant conversation turned to more serious matters - namely what to do with Naimh.

"We cannot take her with us. While she may be a danger, she most certainly will be a hindrance. I will not burden our party with a useless member." Thorin stood as immovable as the mountain he might one day rule. His ice-blue eyes were serious, and his voice was quiet. Shaking his head, he said "I cannot be responsible for the life of one who cannot take care of herself."

"And yet, you did the same with Bilbo, and he has surprised you, has he not?" Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Bilbo is the burglar of our party, the one you promised to us. What is Naimh, but the product of some dark spell? I'm sorry, I cannot let her accompany us."

"Thorin," Gandalf sighed, "Did it ever occur to that thick dwarven skull of yours that perhaps things in this world happen for a reason? That perhaps Naimh was meant to be found by us, that perhaps you are meant to travel with her? Things are not always as simple as they _seem_. You are trusting to portents and prophecy that it is time to reclaim your mountain. Will you not believe that there are some things beyond our control, that we must simply accept?"

Thorin shifted uncomfortably and rested his left hand on the hilt of his sword as he was wont to do when conflicted. His stubbornness, pride, and dedication to his quest all demanded that he leave Naimh behind; she had nothing to do with them. But, he had trusted Gandalf about Bilbo, and Bilbo had saved his life.

For the first time, Beorn spoke. "Gandalf, ye have told me aboot how ye came across Naimh. Ah must say, she is a curious one indeed. It must have taken powerful, dark magic to bring her back oot o' the grave." He folded massive arms. "The question is, why has noo one come t' claim her, ye ken? Why would this Necromancer go t' all the work o' raisin' something from the dead, and then abandon her? Ah've been aroond a lang time, and Ah've never heard of a magician that careless wi' his magic." His frown made his beard cover even more of his face. "Ah think she was a mistake."

"A mistake?" Thorin sounded surprised.

"That would be an interesting development indeed..." Gandalf mused. "But regardless, it is time I left your party for a while."

"What?" Thorin's voice was sharp, and he immediately forgot about Naimh. "You are abandoning us?"

"Not abandoning, Thorin, but I must seek counsel with Saruman and the other members of my order. This Necromancer was strong enough to not just resurrect a spirit, but flesh and blood. We must discuss what is to be done about him. And..." He paused, looking infinitely sad for a moment.

Thorin simply waited for him to continue.

"I cannot take Naimh within reach of Saruman. If he knows about her existence, then I will not be able to protect her."

"Protect her from what?"

Gandalf looked at the dwarf prince. "From whatever he will to do her to determine what she is."

Thorin watched him quietly. "You believe that a member of your order would treat a woman whom you believe is innocent that cruelly?"

"Saruman and I use... different methods." The sadness disappeared from the wizard's face, and was replaced by grim certainty. "I will not let that happen. Please master dwarf, for once in your stubborn life, think of something besides your mountain."

"And if she dies with me?" Thorin raised one eyebrow.

"Then the world will have lost a beautiful voice."

Thorin sighed heavily. He wanted to refuse; he wanted to leave Naimh with the grey wizard to look after whatever she was. But when Gandalf had mentioned that Saruman might torture her, he had felt something strange in his chest - a sharp pain he had never felt before. The thought of pain in those green eyes which already looked so lost... He stopped. There was nothing worthwhile in pursuing that train of thought, so he left it behind. But, his mind had been made up. "Very well, Gandalf. She will accompany us to Erebor, but no farther. Then she will be out of our hands."

"I understand. Thank you, Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf bowed his head to the dwarf prince. "I must go for now, but I promise to you that I shall return. Please inform the others."

"You will not tell them yourself?" Surprise showed on the dwarf's normally stern and quiet face. "You wish to sneak away like a thief in the night?"

"I am afraid it is for the best. I must leave immediately, without any delay. Important events have been set in motion, events that I do not understand - I must seek counsel." The wizard looked Thorin in the eyes. "But I promise you that I will be back to help finish this venture, before the end. May the fates be with you, Thorin." And with that, Gandalf bowed to both Thorin and Beorn, and disappeared outside through a back door in the kitchen.

Beorn turned to Thorin. "Ye'll be making yer way towards the Lonely Mountain then, aye?"

Thorin nodded. "We need to make it there as quickly as possible. It will soon be Durin's Day."

"Ah have a way to help ye, then. There's a path through the woods, known t' few. Ah'll lead ye t' the start. But ye must listen weel." Beorn's deep voice turned serious. "Mirkwood is nae longer a peaceful wood; dark things live in the shadows. Dinnae stray from the path; or ye may never see yer mountain again."

Thorin nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality. We are indebted to you."

Beorn's face was unreadable as he answered, "Weel let's see what comes of that, aye? Ah helped ye because ye were being hunted by orcs, mah foes. Make note: if anyone of ye is a threat in mah forest, Ah will noo hesitate to drive him awa', d'ye ken?"

Thorin nodded again, silently. Leaving Beorn, he walked back to the hearth where the others were seated, waiting for him.

"We move out now," was the Prince's answer to their unspoken question. Beorn will lead us to a safe passage through the woods."

In an instant, all were ready to leave. Naimh walked silently up to Thorin, who was at the front of the company as usual. The dwarf looked up at her. He noticed now that she was clean that her cheekbones were high, and her skin light. Freckles previously indistinguishable through the dirt were scattered across her nose and cheekbones, her lashes were dark against creamy skin. He wondered why she had approached him, and straightened up, his hand again straying to the hilt of his sword.

"Yes?"

"May I ask... What is to become of me?"

The question was an understandable one, she had done nothing wrong, but the simple sentence suddenly aggravated him. He neither knew nor cared what would become of her; it was none of his business. Instead, he was just saddled with another burden. The halfling had turned out to be useful, but this woman? Just a walking corpse. On second thought, her pale skin was too pale, her freckles were blemishes, her face too long. Before he knew what he was saying, he was snapping at her, deep voice full of annoyance. "How should I know what is to become of you? For now, you will travel with us." He began to turn away, lowering his voice until she almost had to strain to hear. "After that, it is none of my concern."

Naimh felt the pain in her chest at his harsh words. Thorin was out the door following the long footsteps of Beorn before she was aware of what was happening again. Bilbo had politely inquired if she was ready to join them, and she had given an affirmative answer and was walking before she completely understood what she was doing. The heartache was a real emotion, one of the most intense she had felt in her memory. Of course, her fragmented excuse for a memory was not one to trust.

Ori and Bofur drifted back to walk beside her and Bilbo. "Did you sleep well, miss?" Bofur asked kindly. While he enjoyed joking and laughing as much as Fili and Kili, he was also a kind soul.

"Very well, thank you." Naimh murmured. "I had good dreams."

"So did I," Bilbo sighed, to no one in particular. "I was smoking some particularly good Old Toby after working in my garden... I'd grown some spectacularly delicious radishes; I was sure they would take first prize at the festival."

As Bofur rolled his eyes, Ori smiled. "I also had good dreams. We were eating the most wonderful breakfast, with sausages, bacon, eggs..."

"Leave it to a dwarf to dream of meat," grumbled Bilbo.

"And you, miss?" Bofur was watching her curiously. "What did you dream of?"

Without really thinking, Naimh answered. "My younger brother."

At that, Kili turned around from in front of them. "Brother, what's this? You've been hiding stories from us!"

Before Naimh knew what was happening, she had been pushed and pulled up into the midst of the company as Beorn led them through a barely visible footpath through the woods.

"Now then," Kili said, looking at her expectantly, "What about this brother of yours? Don't tell me he's as much of an oddity as you?"

"Kili!" Balin warned. Looking at Naimh, he sighed. "Forgive him, he is young."

Naimh shook her head. "Nothing to forgive. I am not quite myself these days." _"What is 'myself'?"_ she wondered internally. _"What am I like?"_

Outwardly, she responded to Kili, an expression other than blankness coming to her face. "I had a twin brother once. He was born only a few minutes after me, making me the eldest."

"Once?" That was Ori.

"I don't suppose it really matters anymore." She looked distant again. "His name was Damien. We were only fraternal twins; we really looked almost nothing alike... His hair was raven black, and his eyes were blue. He was fairer than me..." Something like a curtain was drawn across her eyes, but the dwarves waited for her to continue. There were becoming accustomed to Naimh's strange way of speaking - she seemed to have to struggle with something before being able to continue talking. After a few moments she said, "I'd forgotten about him until last night. It's strange... since we were never apart for more than a few days for most of our lives."

Fili glanced over at Kili with a sudden feeling of foreboding. The two of them weren't twins, but they had spent all of their lives together. Naimh was dead... that meant at some point in Damien's life, he had lost his twin sister. He wondered what it would be like to lose his younger brother, or if he could even bear it. The thought frightened him. But, what frightened him even more was that he might forget his brother, or that his brother could forget him. There were stories that heroes could live on after death, and that perhaps there was an afterlife. But for Naimh, there was nothing. She had been brought back from the dead, but she was a half-person - flesh and blood, but her soul seemed gone. He shuddered.

After about another twenty minutes of walking, Beorn stopped. Past him the group could see the makings of a distinct pathway leading through the woods, winding among the trees.

"Here is where Ah leave ye. Ah'll be keepin' watch over mah territory, so you dinnae need to fear those orcs huntin' ye, they'll noo make it into these woods while Ah'm alive and breathing." Looking at Thorin again he warned, "Keep t' the path. Yer life depends on it." With those final words, the huge man turned around and walked back towards the home where he lived. As he passed Naimh, he looked down at her. The dark eyes and wild hair made him look more like a creature than a man, but she stared back with empty eyes. He paused, just for a moment, and leaned down beside her.

"Memories are weel and guid lass, but ye are livin' in the present. Remember that." Straightening up, he went away through the trees, until his footsteps disappeared, and the only thing that came to their ears was the stifling silence of Mirkwood.

"Let's go." Thorin's tone was brusque as he led them forward on the path. He was curious about what Beorn had said to Naimh, but as soon as he thought of the redhead, he was hit by a wave of guilt. He shouldn't have spoken to her so harshly; she had done nothing wrong. He didn't know why he was alternately infuriated and captivated by her face. What also surprised him was how quickly the younger members of his party had gravitated towards her. Ori, Bilbo, Fili, and Kili all seemed comfortable trying to lure the strange young woman into conversation, telling her stories and trying to make her show just the hint of a smile. In his disgust, he thought that that would be something which Gandalf would approve of.

"I don't like this forest..." Gloin growled after a few hours of walking. "It doesn't feel right in here."

"There's not any birdsong." Bilbo was looking around at the trees, given a strange tinge of color from the murky light that filtered down through the branches. The air in the wood felt and looked sick - something was wrong. "In fact, there aren't any animals at all."

Bofur glanced over at Naimh. "How about a song then? Lighten the mood. What do you say, miss?"

"A song?" She paused and frowned slightly, her mind working. "Very well then."

"One to help with walking, if you don't mind." Ori smiled up at her and, to his surprise, she actually smiled back.

Taking a deep breath, she began to sing again. The tune was surprisingly light and cheerful, and the silence that had seemed to deaden and muffle their voices was no match for the clear tones of Naimh's voice. Wherever the notes touched, it seemed to chase away the shadows. After a few minutes, most of dwarves were chuckling at her lyrics.

_The Goodman he came home one night, the Goodman home came he,_

_There he spied an old saddle horse where no horse should there be._

_It's a cow, it's a cow cried the Goodman's wife, a cow, just a cow, can't you see?_

_Far have a ridden, much I've seen, but a saddle on a cow there's never been._

_The Goodman he came home one night, the Goodman home came he,_

_There he spied a powdered wig when no wig should there be._

_It's a hen, it's a hen cried the Goodman's wife, a hen, just a hen, can't you see?_

_Far have I ridden, much I've seen, but powder on a hen there's never been._

_The Goodman he came home one night, the Goodman home came he,_

_There he spied a riding coat where not coat should there be._

_It's sheets, just sheets, cried the Goodman's wife, sheets, just sheets, can't you see?_

_Far have a ridden, much I've seen, but buttons on a sheet there's never been._

_The Goodman he came home one night, when the Goodman home came he,_

_There he spied a handsome man where no man should there be._

_It's the maid, it's the maid, cried the Goodman's wife, the milking maid, can't you see?_

_Far have I ridden, much I've seen, but a beard on a maid there's never been._

By the last verse, Fili, Kili, Gloin, Balin, and Bofur were all laughing outright. The song was cheerful and ridiculous, but it had done the trick to lighten the mood. Naimh couldn't help but give a hint of a real smile - she was glad they enjoyed the sound of her voice. Looking ahead, however, she saw the broad shoulders and impenetrable back of Thorin Oakenshield. She wondered what he thought of her voice... he probably thought her songs ridiculous.

In truth, Thorin had hung onto every golden note that had passed through her lips. He marveled silently at the way a beautiful voice could banish the darkness in the air and in one's heart so easily, and found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone with a voice like that always around him... Lost in his thoughts, he was startled out of them when Kili shouted, "Look over there!"

Turning, Thorin followed the line of Kili's finger to where he was pointing. A few hundred feet away through the trees, there looked like a little clearing. In it were bushes that seemed full of ripe berries; the dwarves could smell them through the trees. Bilbo's stomach grumbled hungrily. They hadn't eaten for hours, and he was starving. Thorin looked around them. Beorn had warned time and again to stay on the path, but he couldn't see any danger in venturing such a little ways away. The clearing looked inviting, and after Naimh's song, he could almost believe that there were safe places in the wood. With a nod, the dwarves set off for the clearing, leaving that path behind.

Naimh was following up the rear of the group, her footsteps soft on the path. She winced slightly as she stepped; although her boots were soft and her feet were feeling much better, they still ached a little. Tilting her head slightly, she heard the sound of a stream running nearby off the other side of the path. Ahead of her, Bilbo paused and looked back.

"Naimh?" He called out. As she looked back at him, he was surprised to see that her gaze was the clearest it had been in the past 2 days he had known her. There seemed to be more color in her cheeks; she seemed to be able to think more easily.

"I'd like to find some water," she answered softly. "I'll join you all in a moment."

Bilbo shook his head. "You shouldn't be alone, I'll come with you."

The two of them stepped off the path and were headed through the underbrush when the shouting and hissing began. Whirling around, Naimh's eyes widened with fear when she saw the huge spiders bearing down on their friends. Bilbo grabbed her and dragged her to the ground, hiding both of them. They watched as the spiders stung their friends and began dragging away their still bodies. Naimh felt shock and horror but, most of all, terror. She was so terrified she couldn't move. All she could think of were Beorn's warnings that they shouldn't stray from the path. What if the others were all dead?

Bilbo looked over to her in horror. They were in trouble.

XXXXX

Whew! Chapter 3 is done. Hope y'all are still in enjoying it, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Aeilyn


	4. Chapter 4

Well, I really never thought that this story would have over 50 followers after such a short amount of time, and that I'd have viewers from all around the world. It's all really exciting! Unfortunately, school starts tomorrow, and graduate school isn't conducive to really anything but studying. But I _promise_ I'll try to get chapters out in a timely manner.

As always, special thanks to **harrylee94, DTaylor201989,** **VampWolf92, LadyDunla, WarriorDragonElf54, LuCkY-StAr69, WhimsicalMayhem, Ashtera, killer4853**,and **EredLuin** for their reviews.

Disclaimer: The usual. Nothing Tolkien or Jackson, etc.

And on with the story! Any ideas what'll happen next? :)

Chapter 4:

Naimh had to hold both hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest, she was sure that either the spiders would notice it, or it would explode. She felt Bilbo lying there tensely, his hand on the hilt of his elven sword, ready to attack if any of the spiders ventured their way.

The last dwarf to be dragged away was Thorin; his gauntleted arms dragging on the ground. Naimh was paralyzed between terror and panic - the idea of Thorin being dead filled her with so much anguish she almost ran after them. But the terror in her heart... She couldn't. She had already died once, but she had been given a second chance at life, even if it was an arduous and difficult one, even if she was doomed to live a half-life filled with memories and guilt. She didn't want to die again; she didn't want to stop existing ever again.

Bilbo felt Naimh trembling next to him; he was shocked at the look on her face. Reaching out and laying a hand on her arm he leaned over and whispered, "I'll find out where they've taken them. Wait here." With that, he drew his sword and crept off between the trees in the direction the spiders had gone. Naimh was alone.

The silence of the woods around her quickly became stifling; even the sound of her breathing was impossibly loud. She was terrified, but the waiting alone was even worse. Naimh wasn't sure that she could survive it; the suspense was hanging over head like a guillotine. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. _"I can do this, I can do this, I can do this..."_ She repeated it over and over again in her head like a mantra, hoping that it would give her strength. Opening her eyes, she looked across the path towards the clearing, and burned the image of Thorin's still body being dragged away. That gave her the last added strength she needed to pull herself together. She followed where Bilbo had gone, padding softly through the trees.

Naimh followed where she thought he had walked, treading as silently as she could. She kept going, straining her hears for any trace of sound, but she heard nothing. Her hands began to shake; she was terrified that she had gone in the wrong direction, that she had gotten lost, that she would be found by the spiders and devoured... She was so wrapped up in her fears that she almost fell into the web in front of her. Skidding to a halt, Naimh threw herself to the side, tumbling into a bed of ferns. She scooted backwards until her back was pressed against the trunk of a tree and tried to catch her breath. That was when the fighting started.

She heard the strange squealing sounds of the spiders beginning behind her. Working up her courage to look around the tree, Naimh peeked around the trunk. She saw that she had almost stumbled into the midst of the spiders' den. The trees were covered in webs which spread back and forth between them, creating an inescapable maze of the sticky, white material. Interspersed amongst the trees were the 12 dwarves, in various states of consciousness and wrapped in more spider web. But Naimh also saw something that she didn't understand - the spiders were screaming in pain, dancing around the center of their lair, trying to avoid something. Leaning forward, she crouched closer to the commotion. As she watched the spiders scattered fleeing out of sight, and Bilbo Baggins came into view.

Bilbo tried to catch his breath as he cleaned his sword off on the grass. Hurrying forward, he started hacking away at the webs around the closest dwarf. As he finished freeing Dwalin, he heard someone coming up behind him. Bilbo whirled around, his sword held at the ready to find... Naimh standing there.

Her voice was quiet. "Let me help."

Bilbo stared at her for a moment, and then nodded. He left Naimh to pull the rest of the webs away from Dwalin and ran towards Oin, the next closest dwarf. Between the two of them they managed to free the rest of their party. One by one the dwarves began to awake and, with the help of Naimh and Bilbo, made their way back to the path.

"Well done, Bilbo," Bofur said when they were all collapsed together on the road, "We were almost done for."

"Aye, well done," agreed Dwalin. "But how did you manage to fight all of them off?"

Thorin, who had been the most affected by the spider's poison, was also the slowest to recover. Leaning forward with a struggle, he looked at Bilbo. "Indeed, I was wondering that as well, master hobbit. How is it that you managed to fight off a horde of spiders alone?"

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. "They... they weren't quick enough to catch me." The hobbit was fumbling with his words. "I managed to keep underneath them and slashing at their legs. Eventually they just ran off."

Thorin seemed unconvinced, but his head was still feeling suspiciously fuzzy, so he decided to let the discussion go. He placed a hand behind him on the ground, and began to push himself to his feet. Feeling his legs buckle, he threw out an arm to break his fall... but someone caught him instead.

He felt their hands close around his arm and keep him from tipping over. He looked to the side, expecting to see Dwalin or Kili, perhaps, but who he actually saw startled him. Naimh had caught him and was helping him to his feet. He felt a semblance of relief; he had been afraid that she had been captured by the spiders as well and that perhaps, in her fragile state, she would have been unable to withstand their poison. Instead she was standing there, slim fingers wrapped around his thick arm.

This was the closest he had ever stood to her, and he realized that she was in fact very small for a human. While he was tall for a dwarf, she was short for a woman, and they were about the same height. He supposed that he had spent so much time trying to ignore her or considering her a threat that he had never taken the time to see how tall she was. Begrudgingly, he nodded at her with a brief "Thank you." The smile that lit her face was bright, and he noticed how lucid she seemed.

"I hope I never see another spider again as long as I live." Ori's voice interrupted the moment, as he was picking the remnants of the spider webs from his clothing.

"Aye," Dwalin agreed, "The next spider I see will be a dead one."

Bilbo interrupted mildly. "I suppose from now on we should stay on the path?"

Thorin considered giving him a sharp look, but sighed internally. The halfling was right; straying from the path had been his mistake. He should have listened to Beorn's warnings.

"You're right, master hobbit. No one shall leave the path for any reason." Thorin looked sternly at Kili. "Understood?"

Kili grinned sheepishly, as his brother punched him lightly in the shoulder. With that final exchange, the party continued on.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully as they continued deeper into Mirkwood. The evening was almost indistinguishable from night, since so little light filtered through the trees. What little light there was simply made the unseen things darker and gave the entire forest a peculiar, sickly green light. Even the air smelled foul, as if there were dead and rotting things underneath the bushes and leaves on the ground. When Thorin finally stopped for the day, no one breathed a sigh of relief. Instead, the anxiety in the air was palpable - something in the woods did not want them there.

Bombur and Bofur soon had a large fire going, attempting to chase away some of the darkness. While it did make the path slightly more cheerful, it had the unfortunate effect of also making the anything outside of the small circle of light impossibly black. Dinner was a more somber affair than usual; the food tasted sour, and any laughter sounded so strange and muffled that it quickly stopped. Dwalin agreed to take the first watch, while everyone crowded as close to the light of the fire as possible - no one wanted to be caught alone in the dark.

Thorin's watch came in the middle of the night. He stood alone on the path straining his ears and eyes, trying to distinguish anything in the murky darkness of the trees. He had the strange feeling that there were things with eyes watching him in the darkness, but every time he turned his head in their direction they disappeared and moved somewhere else. So preoccupied was he, that the sound of Naimh gasping and flying upright from her sleep caused him to draw his sword and point it at her chest.

He saw that she was breathing hard, her hair was dark with sweat around her face. Steadying his hand, he slowly sheathed his sword. "One of these days I'm going to hurt you accidentally." His voice was cold. "You should be more careful about startling me."

Naimh tried to control her trembling. The nightmare had been so real, so visceral... she couldn't get the sounds of screaming out of her head. She didn't notice the way that Thorin's icy eyes began to soften when he saw how afraid and lost she looked, so she was startled when he was standing beside her and speaking softly.

"You seem to have very troubled dreams." Thorin's voice was quiet, and he looked at her with a neutral expression.

Just the fact that he was speaking to her naturally was enough to begin to chase away the shades of her dreams, and gave her the security of mind to answer. "I suppose I do have more nightmares than is usual."

Her green eyes looked evenly back at him, and he couldn't help but remembering his grandfather had had emeralds of that same color. He wondered how they would look hanging around her throat... She was watching him, and he didn't want to be distracted. He stowed away that thought.

"Do you know why that is?" He had a feeling he already knew.

"Perhaps... it is because I have a lot of things that I fear to remember." Naimh paused, and then looked at him tentatively before flicking her eyes back to the ground. "I wonder if you do as well?" When Thorin didn't answer, she tried again. "Balin... told me the story about your father and grandfather."

"Then there's nothing more to say about it."

Just like that, he had dismissed her. Naimh's shoulders slumped slightly, and she turned her head away from him, preparing to lie back down and to try to bear the terrors that were her dreams.

"Naimh." The word made her freeze. The way that it sounded in his deep voice, rolling off his tongue and touching her ears made her heart flutter. She wanted him to say it again, to listen to the quiet way he had spoken to her and to the gentleness in the tone. But, she didn't want to waste the moment while it lasted. She turned and looked back up at him.

"The best way to deal with fear is to face it head on." Cool blue eyes met her deep green ones.

"I did once already, and I fell short of the task. Every night I'm reminded of it over and over again." Her eyes clouded over, and he saw her beginning to retreat back into whatever world it was she fled to when reminded of something painful. This was the longest he had had a conversation with her, and the longest she had seemed in control of herself. He didn't want to let her go so quickly.

"Perhaps..." He paused, and was having trouble saying what he wanted to. Naimh looked at him curiously, waiting for him to finish. "It would help if I stayed by you while you slept. Remember that nothing can harm you in your sleep, dreams are only apparitions. And, I will make sure that nothing here will touch you."

She was frozen so still, Thorin was sure that she was either going to refuse him, or had slipped beyond the reach of communication. But then Naimh answered, her voice so quiet he had to strain his ears to hear it.

"I think that would help very much. Thank you." She didn't say another word, just lay back down, her head pillowed on her arm. Thorin noticed the way her deep red hair pooled on the ground beneath her, glinting in the firelight. After a few minutes, he could see her breathing slow and become more even - she was asleep.

Thorin spent the rest of his watch sitting there beside Naimh, waiting for the dawn to come. When Kili arose to relieve him, he shook his head and sent his nephew back to his place beside Fili. He had made a promise to Naimh that he would keep watch over her that night, and he didn't intend on breaking it. As the darkness in Mirkwood began to lighten ever so slightly and the dwarves around him began to stir, he looked back down at the woman sleeping beside him. He wanted to reach out and touch her hair or face; she looked so soft and fragile in the embers of the dying fire. He knew what she was dreaming about - he dreamt about it too sometimes, though much less frequently than when he was young. Thorin Oakenshield was no stranger to dreaming about death, it had visited him many times and had caused him many sleepless nights. He just hoped that he was enough to drive its nightmares away from Naimh.

Naimh woke from her sleep to the sounds of the fire and the clanking of pans as breakfast was being prepared. She stretched her stiff muscles slowly, feeling the pull that was somewhere between pain and pleasure. She smiled to herself, delighted that for the first time since she had woken up from being dead, her sleep had not been plagued by screams and spots of red and pain. She almost couldn't remember why, and then... Thorin. Naimh's head snapped to the side, and she quickly looked to where he had been sitting that night. But, he wasn't there. Thorin was by the fire, talking to Balin and Dwalin about something. Naimh felt the disappointment spreading throughout her chest, blossoming like a stain through water. Perhaps her conversation with Thorin and his promise to keep watch over her had been a dream.

Stretching out a hand, she laid it on the dirt where she thought he had been sitting, and then drew her breath in sharply. The ground was still warm - he had been sitting there after all. Naimh left her hand there for a moment and closed her eyes, just reveling in the sensation and the pleasure that Thorin had done something so kind for her.

Thorin looked over at Naimh, who was finally awake. He saw her stretch her arms, reaching them above her head and leaning her head back. His eyes traced the graceful curve of her neck, and then his gaze sharpened. He saw something strange on the skin of her chest, some blemish on her pale skin. Before he could get a good glimpse, however, she had already moved.

"Thorin?" Balin's voice was questioning.

The dwarf prince snapped back to reality. "I'm sorry, Balin, forgive me. I was distracted. But I agree, we should be out of this cursed forest by tomorrow if we press on hard until tonight." He looked around him at the twilight that was the morning. "And more the better, too."

Balin nodded as Thorin walked away to get some of the breakfast before they headed out, but his brow furrowed as soon as his lord had left. He had seen his lord staring at that strange woman, and it troubled him. He would follow Thorin to the gates of death itself and would easily entrust his life to him, but sometimes Thorin's decisions were difficult to accept. Balin hadn't agreed with Thorin when he showed the map to Elrond, but it had turned out helpful to them. But this young woman... he was concerned that Thorin was becoming more interested in her than was healthy. However, it was not his place to order around his future king. He would simply have to wait and see the way things progressed before he spoke his mind.

Breakfast happened and passed, and their party was on the path again. They were in the deepest part of the forest, and the light was the dimmest it had been. The conversation had almost entirely ceased - Bofur and Kili were trying their best to keep morale high, but they weren't quite succeeding. Finally, Bilbo couldn't take it anymore.

"This is ridiculous," the hobbit burst out. "Naimh, please sing something for us. I feel like we're walking deeper into our graves."

Naimh looked around at the dwarves around her, at the anxious and downcast looks on their face. And then she raised her eyes, and looked at Thorin. He was in the front as always, his broad shoulders a comfort to all of those behind him.

"Yes, please, miss." Ori smiled up at her.

"Aye lassie, your voice may chase away some of the shadows." Even Dwalin was requesting a song, which was what finally convinced her.

"All right, then." She smiled. "Any requests?"

"Nothing sad," Bofur grinned. She almost laughed at loud at how cheeky he looked, happy smile underneath a silly hat.

The melody of the song was light, none of it was overly loud or powerful, but the notes were cheerful and danced around their ears as she sang them.

_There was an old man who lived in a wood as you can plainly see._

_He said he could do as much work in a day as his wife could do in three._

_"With all my heart," the woman she said, "If that's what you will allow._

_Tomorrow you'll stay at home in my stead and I'll go drive the plough."_

_But you must milk our Tidy the cow for fear she will go dry,_

_You must feed the littlest pigs that are within the sty,_

_And you must mind the speckled hen for fear she'll lay away,_

_And then you must reel the spool of yarn that I spun yesterday._

_The woman she took up her staff in her hand and she went to drive the plough, _

_The old man took up a pail in his hand and he went to milk the cow._

_But Tidy hinched and Tidy flinched and Tidy broke his nose..._

_And Tidy she gave to him such a big blow_

_The poor man took to his toes._

_Hi Tidy home Tidy, Tidy thou stand still,_

_If ever I'm ill be tidy again, be sore against my will._

_He went to feed the little pigs that were within the sty,_

_He hit his head upon a thick beam and made his red blood fly._

_He went to find the speckled hen for fear she'd lay astray,_

_Forgot to reel the spool of yearn his wife spun yesterday._

_He swore by the sun, the moon, the stars, the green leaves on the tree,_

_If his wife didn't do a day's work in her life, she won't be ruled by he. _

_There was an old man who lived in a wood as you can plainly see,_

_He said he could do as much work in a day as his wife could do in three._

_"With all my heart," the woman she said, "If that's what you will allow._

_Tomorrow you'll stay at home in my stead and I'll go drive the plow."_

Once again, she had the dwarfs laughing. Even the darkness of Mirkwood wasn't able to stifle the simple humor of her song. Even Thorin felt the urge to give a small smile, although he restrained it.

Bilbo looked up at her. "So you said your mother taught you how to sing?"

Naimh gave a sad smile. "She did. She never sang professionally, though I always said she could."

"Did you learn all these songs from her?" Bofur looked at her curiously.

"I did. She sang to me when I was little, and I just started to pick up the songs. In fact, she even sang at my..."

Naimh's voice drifted off, and she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes were wide with horror.

"Naimh? What is it, what's wrong?" Bilbo reached out a hand to her, worry creasing his forehead.

"I can't believe I forgot," she whispered. "She sang at my-"

The last word was cut off and Dwalin suddenly shouted, "Look out!"

An arrow thudded into the tree next to Thorin's head. He drew his sword quickly, roaring out in dwarvish. As the others reached for their weapons, more arrows hissed through the air and pierced the trees and leaves around them. There was the sound of footsteps, and in an instant they were surrounded by a dozen cloaked and hooded figures with bows stretched taut, razor sharp arrows pointed at them and ready to pierce their hearts.

Thorin was shaking with rage. He knew exactly what those cloaked figures were from the way they moved and their skill with bows. "Elves," he snarled.

One of the figures stepped forward and threw back his hood. He was tall, with silver-blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The green of his cloak blended in well with the forest around them.

"Lay down your weapons." His voice was clear, even more clear than Naimh's voice while singing. His eyes ran over the dwarves, examining them one by one. They finally alighted on Bilbo and Naimh, and he raised one perfectly sculpted brow.

Begrudgingly all of the dwarves laid their weapons on the ground.

"Bring them," were the only other two words the lead figure said. In an instant they were all crowded together, their weapons gathered up, and they were being ushered onwards off the path and into the forest.

Naimh was frightened; she had never seen elves before, and their perfect, cold faces were terrifying with her. But more terrifying was the rush of memories that were hitting her, she could barely watch where to place her feet as images and colors flew past her eyes, filling her mind with more information than she could bear. Naimh's knees buckled and she fell forward onto the ground, cutting her palms as they hit the ground.

"Naimh!" Ori turned around, and struggled to get back to her. "Naimh!"

Thorin heard his shouts, and whirled around. He saw Naimh on the ground, and instantly his rage boiled over. With a roar, he tried to charge back to her as one of the elves grabbed her and began to half carry, half drag her along.

Through blurred eyes, the last thing Naimh saw before losing consciousness was Thorin falling to the ground as two of the elves beat him with the butts of their bows.

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Whew, there we go. I'm glad I got this chapter out as soon as I did, before homework really starts to build up. Anyways, what's going to happen next?! Things don't look good, do they?

Pleeeease R&R, I love feedback. Thanks!

Aeilyn


	5. Chapter 5

Hi everyone! Here's chapter 5. I won't waste time with an introduction, so let's just get started!

But first, special thanks to **harrylee94, ZabuzasGirl, Guest, HeartyJessica, WhimsicalMayhem, LuCkY-StAr69, LadyDunla, VampWolf92, guest reader, wolviegurl, **and **StellaRad92** for reviewing!

Disclaimer: Don't own the Hobbit or anything like that.

Chapter 5:

When Naimh opened her eyes, she neither understood nor recognized where she was. Without moving, she examined the room around her as much as she could. The ceiling was made out of some sort of wood, carved into beautiful vines and flowers. From what she could tell four main pillars rose out of the corners of the room and met in the middle of the ceiling, the pillars carved in a spiral. The wood was of a very light color; it almost had the same appearance as white marble.

Straining her ears and listening intently, Naimh heard nothing. She sat up slowly, feeling the sting in her palms where she had cut them in her fall. Looking down at her hands, she realized that they had been bandaged in strips of impossibly white and clean cloth. She looked down she was surprised to find herself dressed in a soft gown of pale gray and her own clothes were nowhere to be seen.

Naimh got slowly out of the bed and examined the rest of the room. While there were walls, they were more like lattices than an enclosure - various holes let in soft beams of light, although they were faint, making her assume that it was the evening. Vines were growing up the central pillars, crowned with beautiful purple and silver flowers. The floor was also of smooth wood, warm to the soles of her bare feet. Lanterns were placed in alcoves around the walls; they had been lit and were giving off a soft, golden light. Other than the bed, there was a small table nearby and that was all the furniture in the room. There were 2 doorways leading out, although Naimh couldn't tell where. She was alone in a strange place and there was no sign of any of the dwarves or of Bilbo.

The sound of someone clearing their voice softly started her, and she whirled around.

"Please do not be alarmed. My name is Alentil. How are you feeling?" The creature spoke.

Naimh found herself staring at one of those impossibly perfect beings that they had encountered in the woods; with ones with arrows and knives. However, this one was a woman, and she spoke perfect English. Even her voice was other-worldly; the way that she pronounced the words seemed too elegant and light to be human.

"What... are you?" was the only thing Naimh could think of to say.

Alentil looked mildly surprised (although even that looked dignified). "I am an elf. You are in the Woodland Realm in Mirkwood, ruled by our king Thranduil." She inclined her head. "You are a welcome guest."

"Where are the others?" Naimh still didn't feel comfortable, and her only thought was of how to find her way back to Thorin and her friends. The idea of being alone in a strange kingdom was terrifying to her, even though it seemed as if the elves meant her no harm.

The very briefest look of distaste crossed the elf-woman's face. "They are safe, have no fear. But the king requests an audience with you when you are ready."

"Will the others be there?"

Alentil sighed. "They will not. But I promise you, they are unharmed."

It seemed the elf-woman wasn't going away, and Naimh reluctantly gave in. Alentil calmly informed her of the bathing pool in the adjoining room, then bowed slightly and left. Naimh waited a few minutes after she left before investigating the bath. What she found in the other room delighted her, despite her best efforts to stay on her guard.

She found a oval-shaped stone pool sunk into the floor of the next room. There were cloths for drying already laid out on the floor next to it. The water was crystal clear, allowing her to see all the way to the bottom. Sliding out of her robe, she let the silky fabric fall to the floor around her feet. For the first time since her journey began, Naimh stepped forward naked. There was a mirror in the room that she could use to look into, but she really didn't need one - she knew exactly what she was going to see, and none of it pleased her.

Dipping the toe of one foot in the water, she found to her surprise that it was very warm. Naimh slid into the bath with a sigh, and closed her eyes for a moment. The warm water surrounding her was pleasant and made her feel for the first time like she was safe. She rubbed her arms with the water and with the soap she found nearby; washing away days of dirt and grime. The feeling was heavenly until she reached her chest. Naimh's slim fingers trembled as she ran them over the ridges of skin there, counting them in her head. A tear slid down her cheek and fell into the bath, mixing with the rest of the water. One tear in a pool. For a little while she just laid there, letting the filth on her body wash away, wishing it could wash away the filth she felt inside. But, she knew this couldn't last long; she was going to have to meet with the king of a strange land and people and, most importantly, she needed to find out where Thorin and the others were.

XXXXX

What Naimh didn't know, was that her companions were almost directly beneath her, locked away in the dungeon, trapped in cells with iron bars. Each member of the party was in a different cell to make the already nigh impossible chance of escape even more difficult. While she had been unconscious the elves had escorted the dwarves and Bilbo down into the dungeon and had left them there until King Thranduil had decided what was to be done about them.

"Thorin. _Thorin_. Uncle!" Fili hissed through the bars of his cell across the passageway to where his uncle

was being kept. The elves had beaten him almost to unconsciousness, and Thorin Oakenshield was sitting slumped against the wall of the prison, unmoving. Fili paced nervously around the cell, he didn't know what to do. They had been led blindfolded to the prison, so he didn't even know who was in what cell. He was concerned about his uncle's wounds, and he was worried about his brother.

"Fili! Fili, is that you?" The soft voice called from down the hall.

_"Thank Durin,"_ Fili sighed to himself - it was Kili.

"Aye, right here." Fili responded, pressing himself against the bars and straining to deduce which direction Kili's voice was coming from.

"Who's across from you? I've got Bifur here across from me." Kili's comment was concluded by the sound of a grunt from Bifur.

"Thorin." Fili's forehead creased with worry, although no one could see. "I think he's unconscious; he hasn't moved since those filthy elves dropped him there.

"When I get my axe back, I'll make them pay." Gloin growled from a cell nearby.

Within a few minutes, all of the dwarves and Bilbo had been accounted for. But, someone was missing...

"Wait a minute, where's Naimh?" Ori's voice was tinged with worry.

"They took her away when they put us in here." Fili looked up in surprised. Thorin was trying to stand, pushing himself up using the wall. He groaned ever-so-slightly as he got to his feet. "I saw them before I lost consciousness. We need to find her."

"I'm not sure that we do."

"What?" Bilbo stared in shock across the passage at the dwarf who had spoken - Balin. "What are you saying?"

Balin walked forward to the bars of his cell and placed gnarled hands on them. His white hair caught the little light filtering into the prison from windows, high above their heads. "Thorin, we need to concentrate on escaping from here and getting to Erebor. Trying to find that woman will only slow us down, and we can't afford to waste any time. It would be wiser to leave her here."

"And that is your true opinion, old friend?" Balin couldn't see Thorin's face, but he could hear the tiredness in his voice.

"It is." Balin was adamant.

"We can't just leave her here!" That was Ori. "We don't know what those elves will do to her!"

"She's a human, she'll be fine." Dwalin folded his arms across his chest and agreed with his brother. "They have no reason to treat her badly."

"Unless they find out what she is," Bilbo mused out loud. "Who knows how they'll view her then?"

Inside his cell, Thorin placed his hand against the wall and leaned his forehead against it. He was conflicted and had no idea what was the proper course of action to take. He had grudgingly agreed to take Naimh along as a favor to Gandalf; but he had been planning to leave her in the city outside of Erebor when they went to take back the mountain. From that point on she was going to be someone else's problem and someone else's responsibility. But now... He didn't want to Naimh behind. The feeling in his chest when he had seen her collapse at the hands of an elf had been... horrible. It had been a combination of fear and rage; he had been terrified that she was hurt of even worse, dead. Thorin Oakenshield didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he had more than just a passing interested in Naimh. Finding her was the predominant thought on his mind.

XXXXX

Naimh had dressed in the gown Alentil had left her, which was a beautiful deep evergreen. The neck was scooped low, just below her collarbones. The sleeves were long, fitted to her elbows and flaring out wide, hanging from her wrists in true elvish style. It was floor-length, belted around the waist with a simple chain of silver and worked into delicate ivy leaves. The embroidery around the ends of the sleeves and collar were also in silver, with whirls and fantastical patterns. Naimh had looked at the soft shoes they had left for her, but had opted to go barefoot.

The deep green complimented her red hair beautifully, but she had struggled what to do with it. Meeting royalty called for something special and she had no idea what was the proper way to meet a king. Finally she had settled on braiding it over her left shoulder, letting it fall down her breast.

Taking a deep breath, Naimh left the room. Outside the door, Alentil was waiting for her. The female elf led her down hallways and corridors, all beautiful and otherworldly, until they reached the court of King Thranduil.

Alentil entered in front of her, stepping through the doorway into a huge hall with a soaring ceiling; the soft light of evening filtered in through the stained glass windows, painting the floor with blues, greens, purples, and reds. Statues and figures lined the walls in alcoves, carved pillars supported the ceiling. Everything about the room was beautiful, clean, and open. It was a room built to be bathed in light and inseparable from the nature around it.

Naimh followed after her, clenching her fists to keep her hands from shaking. At the end of the hall on a throne sat the king of Mirkwood, King Thranduil. As she approached, he rose and stepped down, coming toward them. Alentil bent gracefully at the waist as her king stopped in front of them, dipping into a beautiful bow. Naimh was all but frozen with anxiety, but managed to incline her head. She felt a little twinge in her chest, though, as a memory came back to her from long ago and she was reminded that absolute power made her nervous - and upset.

Naimh tried to clear her head as quickly as possible as Thranduil began to speak. "Welcome to my kingdom in Mirkwood, dear lady. It is good to see that you are well." He spread his arms slightly as he spoke, exuding dignity and grace. As a human amongst elves she felt her flaws and her awkwardness very keenly.

She could feel Alentil looking at her pointedly, so Naimh tried to speak and prayed that her voice would work. "Thank you, sir."

Thranduil smiled magnanimously; he seemed to be very pleased about something. "We have heard word of you from Mithrandir; he spoke of a woman travelling as a prisoner in a company of dwarves and one hobbit." Another elf came up behind him, this one with pale blond hair and startling blue eyes. "My son, Legolas, found your party. It was he who brought you safely to us." The elf behind him inclined his head ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving her face.

"And what..." Naimh had to clear her throat to make her voice heard. "What about the other members of my party?"

"Your captors?" Thranduil looked at her in surprise.

"My friends." Naimh's voice was gentle but firm as she corrected him, and she also was surprised to hear herself call them that. Somewhere in the past couple days she had begun to think of many of the dwarves and Bilbo as friends.

"Friends? It is not possible to be friends with dwarves." For the first time Legolas spoke, breaking his peace. "They are uncouth, greedy and stubborn; they care only for gold and riches." His flawless features darkened slightly with displeasure.

Naimh frowned back at him. "I respectfully disagree. While our first meeting was... less than desirable, things have been improving." Thorin's face flashed into her mind, and her stomach clenched in fear for him. She needed to know that he was safe. "And I am concerned for them. Please, can I see them?"

King Thranduil broke in before Legolas could answer. "I promise you, they are safe and well, and no harm will come to them. Please do not trouble your mind about that." His smile was genuine, but Naimh didn't trust him. Her worry about the others was growing by the minute, but she quashed the panic. She was going to have to act carefully.

Swallowing her concern, Naimh tilted her head back to look King Thranduil in the eye. "Thank you, my lord, and thank you for your hospitality." Her clear green eyes looked back at the king.

Legolas looked at Naimh. They had heard from Gandalf what she was; the wizard had hoped they could take some counsel and perhaps find some answers. However, he had made no mention of her companions and when the elves had heard such a beautiful voice coming from a woman surrounded by dwarves, they had decided to take matters into their own hands. King Thranduil was naturally suspicious and shared the his brethrens hatred for the other race. It baffled the elven prince why Naimh would even show them any concern. But, she finally seemed to be seeing reason.

"It is our pleasure." King Thranduil smiled at her. "But perhaps you could honor us later with a song? It was your lovely voice that led us to you in the first place."

Naimh lowered her head modestly, and looked up through her eyelashes. A few strands of red hair slipped from her braid and fell into her face. While she outwardly she responded with, "I doubt my voice is suited to a court as beautiful as this, but I will certainly try," inwardly she cursed herself for bringing trouble to Thorin.

After a few more minutes and questions, King Thranduil pleasantly dismissed Naimh to her own devices to wander around his house and grounds. The redhead had smiled and thanked him kindly, planning to explore on her own. If she could somehow find Thorin then she could at least make sure that he was safe and well...

"I would be happy to accompany you, lady Naimh." Her thoughts were broken as Legolas stepped towards her. He looked down at the slim woman in front of him. He couldn't believe that someone who looked as delicate as she did would consent to spending so much time with a group of dirty, raucous, and rude dwarves. Legolas had been raised around elves all his life; he had been raised to be royalty. He knew that soon he would be expected to take a wife from among one of the noble women at the court; but then he had heard Naimh's voice. The sweet tones drifting through the darkness had chased the gloom away, and made his heart flutter. Looking at her he saw what Gandalf had seen - someone haunted, but with the potential to be so much more.

Legolas wanted to spend more time with her, and guiding her around his father's house would be the perfect opportunity. He watched the surprise pass over Naimh's face, and found slight amusement at the confusion in her green eyes. He was also fascinated by the color of her hair and the freckles on her cheeks. She looked so different from any of the elves or humans that he had seen, none of them had features like hers. Perhaps she really was from another world, although he and his father were skeptical. It was for that reason they had invited the Lady Galadriel to their home, to seek her wisdom and to see what she could glean from Naimh's mind.

Naimh swore to herself. Having the prince there wouldn't allow her to search for the dwarves on her own. However... if he wouldn't show her where they were being held, perhaps she could guess it from where he didn't lead her. She internally shook herself as another memory surfaced, of sunlight filtering through windows onto a living room floor and lemonade on the table. She remembered the feeling of walking into a new home and exploring every inch of it, making it her own. She remembered the joy of walking through it with someone else, they way they had planned out the rooms, talking about future developments...

Legolas watched her eyes flicker as she fought away the shadows, and his heart filled with pity for her. Naimh was a lost soul, she simply needed guiding. Tilting her head up to look at him, Naimh nodded. "Thank you, I would appreciate that."

The elf nodded and held out an arm - his every movement was fluid. "Let us begin this way, then."

XXXXX

Sorry this isn't as long as usual and it took a while, school is eating my life. But, I hope you like it! Thanks for reading and R&R.

Aeilyn


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing, etc., etc.

Chapter 6:

The last light of the day was fading as Legolas led her back towards the main group of buildings where a soft bed and warm bath were awaiting her.

Naimh did her best to smile up at the elven prince as he finished explaining another piece of his family's history. Truthfully, she was quite interested in everything he had to say. The stories that he was telling were as fantastical as they were beautiful, and they sparked her imagination in ways she hadn't thought were possible. Legolas's tales were so different from those that the dwarves told...

"Naimh?"

Naimh snapped out of her thoughts, and looked up at the elf. His clear blue eyes were questioning. "I'm so sorry," she began, "I must seem very rude-"

"Please don't trouble yourself." The prince gave her a kind smile. "I'm sure this must all be quite overwhelming to you. Shall I escort you back to your room?"

The question made her very uncomfortable; she wasn't quite sure she liked the way he was looking at her. "No," she answered, almost too quickly. Slowing herself down, she tried to relax her posture and voice. "Thank you for the offer, but I think I can find my way from here." She smiled and bowed slightly.

Although Legolas was disappointed, he inclined his head to her and answered, "Very well. Pleasant dreams, Lady Naimh." He turned and walked away. She watched his slender form and the way he effortlessly moved. He made her feel so clumsy and uncomfortable when he was walking beside her.

As soon as he was out of sight, Naimh made her move. Her bare feet made almost no sound as she hurried across the soft grass, holding up the hem of her dress to keep it from making any noise. Lanterns hung from the lower branches of the trees, giving off soft light. The forest looked like some sort of fairytale out of one of the books she had read as a child. The sound of music and soft voices drifted through the night, mixing with the songs of crickets and nightingales. Naimh had made Legolas show her almost everything within the boundaries of their city, mentally checking off the places that the dungeons could be. As dark had started to fall she had begun to lose hope, until finally she had seen something dark between the trees and had asked him what it was. The prince had mentioned something about it being a supply house before shooing her away. That was exactly where Naimh was headed.

Slipping through the trees, she felt the bed of old, soft pine needles beneath her toes. They muffled any sound that she could have made. There were lanterns around the front of the building as she approached it, and she cursed to herself as she saw the guards before it. Creeping as close and she dared and darting behind a tree, she peeked around. The elves were leaning against the outside of the structure that, now that she was closer to it, was actually a rock formation instead of an elf-made building.

The minutes slipped by, and Naimh still had no idea what to do. The longer she was there, the more she worried that someone would notice her absence. After an hour had passed, she could feel her anxiety building and her weariness growing. The air was chilly, and she shivered in her dress. Leaning more heavily against the tree, she blinked to clear her eyes. When she suddenly heard the sound of running footsteps approaching, she almost jumped out of her skin.

Dropping to the ground, Naimh crouched as low in the shadows as she could. A few hundred feet away, an elf approached the two sentries. Straining her ears, she could barely make out what they were saying.

"Hadrufel, Falsus, how goes it?" One of the elf sentries stood up and approached the newcomer. The lantern light made his light blond hair look like spun silver.

"It goes well, Tristiel." The sentry raised his hand to his chest in some sort of salute. "What news do you bring?"

"Lord Thranduil is summoning everyone to the main hall. Lady Galadriel and the other Lothloriens are here."

"Very well," the other sentry said. His hair was a deep brown, the color of rich wood or chocolate. "It will be a relief to join the others and see who has come."

Tristiel, the elf to arrive, said something in a lower voice that Naimh couldn't hear. But, it didn't matter. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she watched the three elves turn and run away. She didn't even stop to marvel at the swiftness in their step or that they made virtually no sound. As soon as they were out of sight, Naimh made her move.

Running forward, she reached the front of what appeared to be a cave. The elves had been sitting on stone benches that were carved directly into the rock. Holding her breath, she took one tentative step forward and then another. As soon as her bare feet touched the cold stone, she shivered and drew in her breath with a hiss. She hadn't realized how cold it had gotten until she stepped inside of the cave. Pausing for a moment, she listened and heard - nothing. The way in front of her was dark, but lit by another lantern a little ways away. The soft light barely broke through the darkness, and as she approached it and stepped into its light, Naimh felt like she was standing in an island of gold in a sea of darkness.

Even with the lanterns, it was difficult to see. The elves must have had superb night vision, because Naimh had to keep one hand along the wall and feel her way towards the next pool of light in the dark. She lifted her feet carefully, trying her best not to make a sound. The floor was made of stone, carved smooth either by elven hands or by water, she couldn't tell which. When she reached the first set of stairs, she was so intent on not making any noise that she almost tumbled down them.

Each moment felt like a lifetime to her, and Naimh began to worry when the guards were going to come back. She tried to rid herself of the doubts and fear that were beginning to eat away at her stomach and courage. Taking a deep breath, she began to descend the stairs.

XXXXXX

The dwarves had decided that it would be best to sleep and preserve their strength before trying to come up with an escape plan. A couple of elves had silently brought them food and left it outside the bars of their cell. Unfortunately, it seemed that these elves were also vegetarian - there was no meat in any of the dishes. After much complaining and bickering, Thorin had finally ordered them to shut up and eat while they could - they would need the sustenance.

Now the dungeon was filled with the raucous sounds of dwarves snoring, and the higher pitched whistling that was Bilbo. The only ones awake were Dwalin and Thorin. Dwalin was kept awake by his mistrust of the elves, and Thorin was awake desperately trying to battle off a splitting headache and his worry for a human redhead.

When Dwalin saw the torch approaching, he assumed that it was one of the guards. Hissing across his cell, he woke his brother Balin. One by one the dwarves awoke, although not very silently. They each approached the bars of their cell, and waited to see who would appear.

Kili's cell was closest to the hall, and he saw her first. He was startled at the elven maiden approaching him, but he was about to address her with an insult anyway when...

"Naimh?!" The surprise in his voice was audible. "What are you doing here?"

At the sound of her familiar name, the other dwarves all leaned forward, pressing against the doors to their cells. Thorin felt the relief flood through him like a wave. She was alive.

Naimh walked between the cells, checking on each of the dwarves. Although really, she was looking for Bilbo and... Thorin. She found the two of them at the very end of the row. Bilbo, who leaped forward with a cry of delight, managed to hug her through the bars. The smile that lit her face was genuine, and her green eyes sparkled in the light of the torch. Leaning forward, she placed it in a wall sconce and then turned towards the king.

When she faced him, Thorin's breath was taken away. Although she was quite obviously in elf clothing which he rather detested, he couldn't deny that the gown suited her well. With the shadows flickering on her face, she almost could have passed for an elf herself. He pulled himself out of his thoughts as she took a step towards him.

"Thorin..." her voice was hesitant. "I... would like to apologize."

He hadn't been expecting that. "Why?"

The sound of his familiar voice chased away the chill of her body. "Thranduil told me that we were found because of my singing." Naimh hung her head. "The last thing I wanted was to bring you more trouble."

Now, Thorin was not angry, nor was he surprised. But any encouraging words he had were trapped in his throat. His icy blue eyes surveyed her out of a face that was cut and bruised. He was silent for a moment, and then turned away. "We must escape as soon as possible."

Naimh's heart fell into her stomach. She hadn't been expecting encouragement or really forgiveness, but something would have been nice.

"Do you have any idea how to help us, Naimh?" Bilbo looked at her curiously.

"I'm sorry, I don't. The elves are treating me like a guest, and I am watched almost constantly." She turned towards the hobbit. Legolas flickered into her mind, and she considered telling them about the way the elf prince was following her around, but she pushed the thought away. It really wasn't relevant.

"I have seen the city, however. If you can call it that..." she drifted off for a moment. "The entrance to this prison is away from the main buildings, a little ways into the woods. It was guarded by two sentries."

"How did you get in?" Kili asked.

"They left for a while," she murmured. "They said something about visitors..."

"What kind of visitors?" Thorin hadn't yet turned away.

Naimh looked at his long, thick hair. "More elves, I believe."

"Any sign of Gandalf?" Bilbo again.

"None, I'm afraid." She shrugged. "He wasn't mentioned at all."

Bilbo couldn't help but notice how much better Naimh was doing. She seemed much more lucid, much more alive. He wondered if part of it was the power of the elves. Perhaps they were trying to heal her.

"I probably shouldn't stay..." Naimh bit her lip, and then was surprised at the motion. Had she always bitten her lip like that when conflicted? She couldn't remember. "I need to get back out before the elves come back and someone notices that I've been missing."

At that, Thorin turned around to face her again, and approached the bars of the cell. He was standing eye to eye with her, just watching her for a moment with that steady gaze. "You're right." He said. "But what was the purpose of coming here if you had nothing useful to offer?"

That hurt again. "I needed to find you." She said simply.

Fili was watching their exchange intently. He couldn't help but wonder... Did the "you" refer to all of them? Or just their leader?

"I'll try to find out more and come back," she said softly. "And... bring medicine, if I can." She was worried by Thorin's wounds.

"Escape is the most important thing." Thorin was adamant. "It would be more helpful for you to find out if there are any other entrances to this place, and where we could slip away from the city."

"I'm sorry to say it, but Naimh's right." Surprisingly, that was Balin. "If you are too wounded to keep pace, that will only slow us down."

After a few moments of thinking, Thorin relented. "Very well. Bring what you can."

Naimh offered him a smile, and then reached forward to pull the torch back out of the sconce. When she lifted her arm and stood on her toes to do so, Thorin saw her dress shift as it exposed more of her chest. He was about to look away to avoid impropriety, when he saw them. There, marring the creamy skin of her breast were what looked like... five scars. The skin was rough and puckered, and a different color from the flesh around it.

As quickly as he had glimpsed them, they disappeared. Naimh had a hold of the torch and was heading carefully back towards the entrance of the hallway to the stairs that would lead her back out into the cool night air. She gave soft responses to the dwarves request that she come back quickly and soon, when she reached Kili's cell.

"Naimh?" He asked.

She paused and turned towards him. "Yes?"

The light from the torch threw her face into shadow, and reflected off her red hair. In the light it seemed the color of blood, it shone a deep crimson. Her eyes were cast into shadow and, for a moment, she looked to be what she was - a ghost, a relic from another time.

"When we were captured, you were saying something." He chose his words carefully.

"Was I?" Her face was expressionless.

"You said that your mother sang at something. But you were cut off before we found out what it was."

The dwarves and Bilbo were silent, listening to Kili and Naimh's response.

Of all the things that he had decided to bring up now, Naimh desperately wished that this wasn't one of them. She had been trying to stave off the memories that occasionally started flooding into her mind, and Kili asking about it was only going to make it worse.

"I suppose that's true." Her voice was cautious.

Since she didn't seem to be offering any information, Kili decided to ask bluntly. "What was it?"

Naimh paused. Somewhere, beneath all of the wonder of the things she had seen, all of the fear of the unknown and what would become of her, and her developing feelings for Thorin, something had been missing. There had been a gap in her heart, one that she hadn't noticed because she had been so confused. Now, that gap was filling up with grief, a grief more deep and more dark than one she had known before.

The seconds ticked by and the woman was still silent. Thorin felt that Kili had crossed some sort of line, but he was uncertain what it was. Fili's voice broke the deafening silence.

"Naimh?"

His voice shattered the spell that had fallen over her, and she let out a deep sigh. Looking at Kili for a moment, she answered.

"My wedding, Kili. My mother sang at my wedding." Turning around before he could respond, Naimh and her ring of light rushed off, and complete darkness fell around them again.

There was silence for a few moments, until Fili broke it again. "You should have let it go, brother."

Kili said very calmly. "It was important to know."

"Why?" Ori sounded angry.

"To understand her," he said simply. "I'm not a wizard, but I feel that she has a part to play in all of this. So we need to understand her."

Silence fell among the dwarves again, as one by one they tried to make themselves comfortable and get some more sleep. This time only Thorin was awake, lost in his thoughts.

_"My wedding, Kili. My mother sang at my wedding."_ He couldn't get her words out of his head. The way she had said them... Her pain had almost been tangible. Between seeing the scars and learning that about her, Thorin could only think...

_"Who is she?"_

XXXXXX

Chapter 6!

Sorry, it's even shorter. But school will be ending soon, and then I'll have more time to write, I promise! Thanks for all the great feedback and, as usual, R&R!

Aeilyn


	7. Chapter 7

Hello again! Thank you to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited and read the last chapter. I cranked this one out pretty quickly, because I had some inspiration this last week. So, here's chapter 7. I really hope you like it!

Chapter 7:

Thorin Oakenshield was dreaming of dragon fire. Behind his eyelids, the light and heat from the flames seared his eyes. He brought his arm up to his face, desperately trying to shield it from the blaze, but he was struck with confusion when he realized that his usually mail-clad arm was bare. The hot tongues of fire singed the dark hair on his arms, and he felt the sparks land on his beard. Looking around him, he felt panic growing in his chest. There was nowhere to escape, nowhere to run. Smaug had found him, and he was going to be burned alive in this hell of raging flames. As he resigned himself to his fate, he felt a blast of cool air rush past him.

Turning around, Thorin was startled by what he saw. A woman was walking through the midst of the flames which receded, and shied away from her form. She was clearing a path through the blaze as she walked, and the cool breeze with accompanied her kissed Thorin's burned face.

At first her form was hard to distinguish, but as she came closer, Thorin saw her for who she really was - an elf. Long blond hair reached to her waist, and impossibly creamy skin covered her face and arms. She seemed to almost float rather than move; Thorin could tell that there was something... special about her. But he still didn't trust her.

When she reached him, Thorin found a pair of clear blue-gray eyes watching him calmly. " Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. I know what you seek."

The elf's voice was calm, but withdrawn. She seemed to be looking at something other than him while she spoke.

"What business is it of yours what I seek?" His tone was gruff and hostile.

The elf remained motionless. "What do you wish to find in Erebor?"

"I wish to find nothing." His voice was angry. "I only wish to take back the halls of my people."

The lady focused her eyes on him once more, and Thorin felt as if he was being stripped naked under her gaze. She seemed to be able to see into him, through him, and to understand intimately what he was thinking and feeling. Thorin did not like the sensation; he liked it even less that it was coming from an elf.

Instantly, she turned his attention elsewhere. "Why do you dream of fire, Thorin Oakenshield? Is it because of the dragon? Or is it something else?"

Thorin's frustration was growing. "What are you talking about, elf?"

She turned away from him, and he couldn't help but be fascinated by how fluidly she moved. "Flames do many things. They create and they destroy, they purify and defile." Without looking at him, she asked again. "Why do you dream of fire?"

The dwarf king didn't understand, nor did he care to. He felt the anger rising up in his chest, the hatred that he felt whenever he saw elves. It ran burning through his veins, turning his blood molten. With his fist clenched at his side, he longed for his sword to strike down that unbearably pristine-

His thoughts were interrupted. The space where the elven queen had been standing was empty. As he began to turn around to look for her, he felt a cool and gentle hand on his rough cheek. The feeling was only there for an instant before it disappeared, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke with a start.

The dream had been so vivid, it took him a few minutes to shake off the last tendrils of sleep that clung to him. He seldom dreamt about elves, and when he did it was only reliving again and again those moments of betrayal at the destruction of Dale and Erebor. This elven queen though, for that is all she could have been, was someone he had never seen before in his life. Thorin lifted a hand up to his cheek where she had touched him, and drew in his breath sharply. It was still cool.

XXXXXX

Niamh had almost made it back to her room unnoticed. She had taken a detour through the outskirts of the buildings, weaving her way amongst the trees. She had thought she was almost safe, there were only a few hundred feet left before she reached her quarters, and then-

"Niamh?"

Of all the people it could have been.

Turning around, Niamh saw Legolas standing behind her. He was dressed in a deep silvery gray tunic, interwoven with deep blue threads that seemed to change their patterns before her eyes. His blond hair looked like spun gold in the lamplight. She hadn't even heard him approach.

"Hello Legolas." She managed a slight smile.

"Perhaps I was mistaken, but I thought you had taken to bed hours ago. It is quite late." His voice and expression were polite, but Niamh was on her guard. She couldn't let him know she had found the dwarves and hobbit. So, she told the truth.

"I have... a lot on my mind."

"Perhaps you would like to discuss it?" The elven prince offered her his arm. It was late, and Naimh was exhausted. But she didn't want to act suspiciously, so she wearily reached out and took it.

Legolas led her away to some benches that she hadn't seen before. It was small wonder, because they were carved into the trees themselves. Although... "carved" wasn't the proper word. As Niamh sat down, she couldn't see any markings of carving or smoothing whatsoever. It seemed as if the trees themselves had simply grown that way.

Noticing her look, Legolas answered her silent question. "Many ages ago, my people could sing to the trees. With their voices they taught them how to grow and shape themselves. Often they taught the trees themselves to sing back in return." His voice grew softer. "But all the songs are dying; this forest is becoming foul."

He looked around him, and Niamh found herself fascinated by the perfection of his countenance. Even sorrow looked beautiful on his face. "Why?" She finally asked.

"We do not know." For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Naimh watched around her, as fireflies drifted through the trees, winking their tiny golden lights on and off. They breezes were cool as they touched her face, and ruffled her red hair.

Legolas spoke again. "What is troubling you, Lady Niamh?"

A thousand thoughts ran through her mind. She could lie, or make something up. She could ask about Thorin and the others. She could simply ask to sit in silence. Or...

"I am not... Who I was."

His face was gentle. "What do you mean?"

Niamh bit her lip. "I can't... remember everything. I remember bits and pieces, but they all seem so fragmented and scattered... Like shards of a broken mirror. All of them reflect me, but none of them seem like they will ever fit together again. And even if they do, they will make something entirely different." She leaned back, resting her head against the cool trunk of the tree behind her. She felt surrounded by a spell, woven out of soft darkness and twinkling lights.

Absentmindedly, Niamh reached down to the ring finger on her left hand. She had remembered in the dungeon that she had twisted her wedding band when she was anxious or afraid. But when her fingers reached for the solid band of gold, it wasn't there. She wondered what they had done with it when they had buried her.

Legolas noticed the unconscious motion and wondered what it meant. This mortal was so young compared to him, and so fragile. She was a product of something else entirely, and he was drawn to her. She was something new entirely, something never seen before in Middle Earth. He had been waiting for something like her to come along for centuries - something new.

"Is it so terrible to become something else?"

Hazel eyes glanced up at his for a moment. "It may not be terrible. But it certainly is difficult."

She sighed, and he saw the exhaustion on her face.

"Forgive me, Lady Niamh. I have kept you out too late. Please allow me to escort back to your chambers." Legolas offered his arm again, and Niamh was too tired to refuse.

He left her at her door, but when he took his leave, his gaze held hers longer than made her comfortable. As she slid out of her dress and into her bed, she wondered why he had watched her like that.

XXXXXX

Four days passed in Mirkwood; four days of agony for Niamh, Bilbo, and the dwarves. As each sun set, Thorin and the others worried about making it to the Lonely Mountain before Durin's day, and Naimh worried about how to help her friends escape. On the fifth day, she was summoned again to meet King Thranduil.

The dress that the elves had laid out for her was even more elaborate than on the other days. As Niamh slipped into the material, it felt weightless on her skin. When she moved, the fabric rippled and shimmered like mercury. It was the color of quicksilver, and was designed much like the other dresses. The only difference was in the train, which was much longer. When she walked, it drifted behind her on the smooth floors.

For jewelry they had left her a golden belt for the dress, crafted to look like birds in flight. There was a matching necklace, which hung around her neck and nestled into the dip of her collarbone. They had even left her a circlet for her hair. Instead of braiding at as she had been, Niamh left it down. It fell in gentle waves around her shoulders and tumbled down her back.

Before leaving her room and walking to the great hall, she paused to look at herself in a mirror. The woman that she saw was someone unfamiliar to her. Large hazel eyes stared back, set in a pale face scattered with freckles. She had always been fond of the freckles; she had gotten them from her mother. In the summer they darkened, covering her nose and cheekbones. But here... they set her apart. The elves were flawless. Her freckles looked like blemishes and imperfections on skin that couldn't compare with the impossibly smooth skin of the elves. Her nose wasn't straight enough, her eyebrows were too dark, her lips too thin. In comparison with perfection, Niamh felt herself sorely lacking.

But today, they had tried to make her look as flawless as possible. She wondered... Why?

Walking out of her chambers, she hurried across the grass towards the main hall where the king and the others were waiting. She paused before the doors, as the two elves standing there inclined their heads gracefully and then opened them for her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

Thranduil was seated at the far end of the hall, in his rightful place as king. Legolas was seated to his right, and the elf prince looked as perfect as ever. But there was someone sitting to the left of Thranduil... someone that Niamh didn't recognize. She was obviously another elf; there was no way that she could be anything otherwise. Her long pale blond hair fell to her waist in ripples, and her white arms rested in her lap. But her eyes... when the eyes of the elf maiden met hers, Niamh felt the strangest sensation, as if someone was poking at her mind. She couldn't understand what was happening, until she heard the voice in her head.

"We finally meet, Niamh, woman who is not from our world."

Niamh knew there were introductions going on in front of her, she heard Thranduil's voice and saw his lips moving, but she couldn't comprehend anything he was saying. Her eyes were locked to the blue eyes in front of her. The gaze was so intense, she desperately wanted to turn away, but she was frozen in place.

And then, all of a sudden, Thranduil was gesturing to her and everyone was looking at her expectantly, and Niamh was so lost and confused and all she wanted was to escape from this bizarre world and these unnatural non-humans, when -

"Father, please." Legolas's voice managed to break into her head. "She's overwhelmed and still in a fragile state."

Somehow, he was standing next to her. It wasn't like elves to touch others wantonly, but the prince was standing close enough that she could feel the heat from his shoulder.

Thranduil looked slightly displeased, but his regal face was quickly composed. "I apologize, Lady Niamh. I do not mean to distress you."

Galadriel spoke. "She wishes to see the dwarves and the hobbit." Her voice sounded distant and ethereal, as if she was speaking from a distant cloud. "That anxiety clouds her mind."

"The dwarves? We have told her that the dwarves are safe, but not worth her time." Thranduil's sounded even more displeased. "Truly she shows disrespect for you, Lady Galadriel, as well as my house." King Thranduil arose from his seat, and took a step towards her. "We have shown you hospitality, Lady Niamh, I have opened my home to you, provided her with clothing and food, and now Lady Galadriel herself wishes to meet you. Is this how you repay my kindness?"

Beside her, Legolas moved to speak, but Niamh felt something rising up in her heart. It was anger. Before the prince could open his lips, her voice rang out through the court.

"And what about my friends? What hospitality have you shown them? What kindness?" She too took a step forward, and her hazel eyes flashed with light. "Your elves beat Thorin, and then you threw him in a cell without any medical treatment." For a moment, Niamh was what she had once been - a proud woman standing tall, red hair tumbling down her back and eyes blazing with fire. "You have shown them no respect, and have treated them with nothing but contempt."

Anger crossed Thranduil's pale face, and Niamh tensed herself for his rage.

"Enough." Lady Galadriel rose from her seat. She turned to the woman in front of her, and watched as the fire in her eyes dimmed. "I would also like to speak with Thorin Oakenshield."

The king frowned. "Then you may see him. But the other dwarves stay, and he will receive no medical help. He is still an enemy of the elves, and I will not allow him to roam freely in my house."

Niamh felt the desperation growing in her stomach. She hadn't seen him in four days, her worry about Thorin kept increasing. Her mind racing, she searched for an answer, until...

"Wait!" Her voice rang out. Every had in the hall turned, until every elf was watching her.

"Yes?" Thranduil's voice was cold.

"I'll... I'll make you a deal." Now that she had started speaking, Niamh was starting to regret her decision to open her mouth.

"A deal? What kind of deal could you possibly make with me? What do you have to offer, you, who have nothing?"

Although his comment stung, Niamh pushed forward. "I brought this upon them..." Her voice was dangerously close to cracking. "It was my fault you found them; it was my voice. So let me try to fix things the same way."

Thranduil still looked skeptical, but at her side Legolas spoke again. "Father, let her speak."

"Let me sing for you." Her request was simple. "If you are moved at all by my voice, then please... at least let me tend to Thorin's wounds. Move them out of your dungeon to somewhere more comfortable. Please."

The king of Mirkwood looked down at the woman below him, and looked at the face of his son. To his right, Galadriel watched him quietly. "Very well." He stepped back and sat down. "Continue."

Niamh's bravery had subsided, and now she was frightened. Somehow she had believed that her voice could move a creature of perfection. But this was her chance, and she was betting everything on the off-chance her voice could move a king. Her mind turning, she searched her memory for a song that could possibly... And then it hit her. She remembered. Stepping away from Legolas, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. No silly ballads for her today, or foolish tunes. She needed a song to move a mountain.

When the notes and words did begin to flow out of her mouth, her voice wove a spell around the court. Even king Thranduil, despite himself, found himself falling more deeply into her tale.

_Beloved gaze in thine own heart, _

_The holy tree is growing there;_

_From joy the holy branches start,_

_And all the trembling flowers they bear. _

_The changing colors of its fruit_

_Have dowered the stars with merry light;_

_The surety of its hidden root,_

_Has planted quiet in the night;_

_The shaking of its leafy head_

_Has given the waves their melody,_

_And made my lips and music wed,_

_Murmuring a wizard song for thee._

_There the Loves a circle go,_

_The flaming circle of our days,_

_Gyring, spiring to and fro,_

_In those great ignorant leafy ways;_

_Remembering all that shaken hair_

_And how the winged sandals dart,_

_Thine eyes grow full of tender care:_

_Beloved gaze in thine own heart._

_Gaze no more in the bitter glass,_

_The demons with their subtle guild_

_Lift up before us when the pass,_

_Or only gaze a little while;_

_For there a fatal image grows,_

_That the stormy night receives, _

_Roots half hidden under the snows,_

_Broken boughs and blackened leaves._

_For all things turn to barrenness _

_In the dim glass the demons hold,_

_The glass of outer weariness,_

_Made when God slept in times of old._

_There through the broken branches go_

_The ravens of unresting thought, _

_Flying, crying, to and fro,_

_Cruel claw and hungry throat,_

_Or else they stand and sniff the wind,_

_And shake their ragged wings; alas!_

_Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:_

_Gaze no more in the bitter glass._

_Beloved gaze in thine own heart, _

_The holy tree is growing there;_

_From joy the holy branches start,_

_And all the trembling flowers they bear. _

_Remembering all that shaken hair_

_And how the winged sandals dart,_

_Thine eyes grow full of tender care:_

_Beloved gaze in thine own heart._

The last notes died away into silence, and everything in the hall was again still. Even the elves seemed as if they had been holding their breath, lest the smallest sound would crack her crystal notes.

When Niamh opened her eyes finally, they were full of tears. Through blurred vision, she looked up at King Thranduil, and waited with bated breath... because the king of the elves also had tears in his eyes. It was at that moment that she knew her gamble had paid off. Without a word, Thranduil nodded to one of the elves in the room, who bowed his head and then left. Behind her, Legolas frowned. He felt an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. It was something slightly resembling jealousy.

XXXXXX

When the elves came down and unlocked their cells, none of the dwarves or Bilbo understood what was happening. They were even more confused when they were led up out of the darkness blindfolded, and through the trees. When the cloths were removed, they were in a room with windows and doors. The elves left them there silently without a word, but they could tell from the armed guards at the doors - they were still prisoners.

When the elves came for Thorin, they were even more confused. Although they crowded together to protect their leader, they couldn't keep him from being dragged away.

Thorin was led between two guards to a small section of one of the buildings. Opening the door, one of the guards motioned for him to go inside, and then stood by the door facing away from him.

Thorin walked cautiously inside, wondering what he would find. When he walked into a beautiful room with bed and bright windows, and a bathing pool visible through the doorway, his eyes narrowed - and then he saw her.

Niamh walked out of the room with the pool, carrying a roll of soft bandages. She was the most beautiful he had ever seen her, with her hair down and in the white gown. But he didn't understand why...

"Hello, Thorin." Her voice was quiet, hesitant, as if she was afraid of his answer.

"What is this?" Was his only response.

"I... managed to get King Thranduil to move you out of the dungeon. And he is going to let me take care of your injuries." She motioned to a small wooden box on her dresser, which he guessed to be filled with some sort of salve or herbs.

He saw her shift uncomfortably, and made a guess. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

Niamh looked down at her feet and shifted uncomfortably. "Not really, no. But I'll do the best I can."

The dwarf prince looked at her, and then sighed. "Very well." His deep voice was seemed resigned. And before Niamh knew what he was doing, Thorin began sliding off his cloak and then his armor.

She found herself mesmerized by the way he moved. His silver-streaked hair fell forward as his gauntlets fell and then his breastplate. He laid his rings on a table, and then slid off his boots. Standing there in nothing buy his pants, Niamh drew in her breath with a hiss.

His chest and shoulders were marked and discolored by bruises and dried blood. The wounds from his battle with the pale orc were only half-healed, and the scabs marred his muscled chest. Wordlessly, Thorin walked towards the bathing pool, and sat himself on the edge. Niamh followed with the bandages and salve.

In silence, Niamh picked up a rag and began to wash away weeks of dirt and grime. She was especially careful with his bruises and cuts, gently wiping away the dried blood and dust. As the filth trickled away, she saw the scars that remained on his chest and shoulders and back. Niamh wondered what kind of life he must have led to have so many wounds...

"Are you surprised?" His question startled her.

"I'm sorry?" Niamh was confused.

"By how I look. Does it upset you?" Thorin didn't sound concerned or curious, just cool.

Niamh chose her words carefully. "It upsets me in that it means you've had a difficult life. But it doesn't frighten me."

"Every scar has a story." He winced slightly as she cleared away dried blood from a fresh cut. When she didn't respond, he spoke again. "What story is behind yours?"

Niamh brushed his long hair over his shoulder, and tried not to let her fingers linger. "What are you talking about?" She tried to keep her voice steady, but it trembled slightly.

"The scars on your chest. What are they from? You have certainly never seen battle." His thick arms rested on his knees and he looked down at the water. When the dirt began to cloud the surface, it was washed away by the spring. His head was bent, hiding his eyes from view.

Niamh didn't respond at first. She didn't want to respond, but he had asked her point-blank. And he was finally talking to her as an equal, as a person. And he was so warm, so solid beneath her fingers. She felt her heart beating so loudly she was sure he would be able to feel it. She was so thankful he couldn't see the way she was blushing.

But still, she stopped. Putting down the cloth on the stone, she leaned back. Thorin turned his head to look at her, and the waves of dark hair fell over his strong chest. Naimh turned her head away, until her hair hid her face.

"They..." Her voice caught in her throat. She didn't want to cry, she didn't want to cry, she didn't want to cry... "I got them when I died."

He could barely hear her voice, it was so quiet.

"So it's true, then? You were truly dead?"

"Yes. I remember dying." Her hands twisted her the fabric of her dress in her lap.

"How?"

She flinched, as if he had struck her. Thorin turned towards her completely, and his blue eyes studied her face. Reaching up, Niamh pulled down the neckline of her dress until the scars were revealed.

Thorin counted them again; there were 5.

Niamh shifted uncomfortably next to him, and she seemed to shrink, to withdraw within herself. Her voice quieted to a whisper as she began her story. "I was home alone... my husband was gone to visit his parents..."

She was trembling now, as the memories took over. "It was late at night, and there was a break-in. He found me alone and he..."

She couldn't continue, and she didn't want to. It was all so strange, she was telling the story of her death to a half-naked dwarf that she... And then it hit her. Niamh, even in the midst of her memories and sorrow realized that her feelings for Thorin...

"Is that what the nightmares are about?" Before she could finish her thought, Thorin's voice interrupted again.

Niamh shook herself out of her thoughts. "Yes, that's what the nightmares are about." Before she could change her mind, Niamh finished the story. "He raped me, and then he stabbed me - 5 times." She unconsciously moved her hand to her chest, and traced the ridges of flesh there. "I don't remember when I died, but I remember the pain."

Next to her, Thorin felt something strange. A deep, violent anger at whoever had done that to her. The idea of someone violating Niamh, of forcing her to do anything, and then stabbing her, killing her... He wanted to find that man and make him pay. Thorin wanted to fight him to the death, and then feed his corpse to wargs. But instead, he simply picked up the rag she had set down, and began washing his feet and legs. Without looking at her he spoke again, and his voice was gentle.

"They may never fade. But you learn to wear them proudly." He glanced to his left where she was sitting with her head bowed.

"Would you help me finish?" Thorin held out the salve and bandages.

Niamh looked up in surprised. But when she reached out to take them, their fingers brushed against each other. And when she let hers linger for a moment too long, Thorin didn't pull his hand away. And when her hands moved over his torso, Thorin let out an inaudible sigh, and closed his eyes as her hands did their work gently. For a moment, both of them were completely at peace.

XXXXXX

WOW. That turned out to be much longer than I thought it was going to be. But there you have it folks, chapter 7! I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it. As always, please R&R. Feedback is the best.

Aeilyn


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